Tough Love

by EntreNous

Tseng is the bane (and the infatuation) of Reno's existence, but he has a hard time following Tseng's Draconian methods. Nothing Reno does ever seems good enough! Even after Tseng seduces him, Reno still can't be sure what Tseng really wants. Will they find common ground to work together, or does Tseng have other plans for Reno? (M/M, Tseng X Reno. Same old story, new edit!)

Tough Love

A Final Fantasy VII fan fiction

By Teri Stearns

Final Fantasy VII © Square-Enix

Cover art by Teri Stearns

For Kim, who totally kicks ass—especially mine.

Thanks to Square-Enix for creating such deliciously memorable characters.

Thanks to everyone who read this, who bothered to e-mail me and tell me how much you liked it, who left a positive comment for me, to all you fellow fans out there who encouraged me to not give up on this story even when I thought I already had. This, especially, is for you.

ONE

Son of a bitch.

I slammed the hood of my car down with more force than was strictly necessary. I'd poked at a thing here, wiggled a thing there, pretending to know what I was looking at, but truth be told, cars make about as much sense to me as women—and some men, but I'll get to that in a bit. With the world's most pathetic sigh, I plunked my backside down on the hood of my car. I felt the metal give under my weight.

I had just put an ass-dent in my 1970 Classic Impala. Great.

Perfect end to a perfect day. The only thing that would make my day any better is if the whole goddamned planet decided to split open and swallow me whole. At least then I'd have a reason to call in sick tomorrow. I had already been planning to find the biggest rock in all of Midgar to crawl under for a few years and hibernate. Then I realized there aren't any rocks in Midgar-potholes and asphalt cracks don't count. That left me with the only other option of leaving town, and thanks to reliable old "Wilma" here underneath me, that wasn't going to happen tonight.

I pulled my feet up on the front bumper and rested my elbows on my knees, digging the heels of my palms into my eye sockets while my butt continued to roll around and make a nice nest for itself on the hood of my car. My head pounded like a rock concert was going on in my skull and a riot was about to break out. My best hope for any kind of salvation for the day was to head to the nearest bar and let them hook me up to a Jack Daniels intravenous, but even that wasn't sounding all that appealing at the moment. Somebody check the temperature in Hell. I think I feel a chill coming on…

What a shitty day.

I know, you're thinking big deal, right? Everyone has them. Wake up late because you forget to set the alarm clock, stub your toe on the side of the tub getting into the shower, have to take a cold shower because there's no hot water left in your building. Car problems…traffic…endless construction on every major road in town… A endless shit-storm of really bad stuff can go wrong, and that's just getting to work.

If you think that's the worst your day can get, you don't work for my boss.

I was four minutes late today. Four damn measly little minutes. And for that Tseng decides to pull me in his office and give me the mother of all ass-chewings. I'm pretty sure that man was put here on the planet to test me. Problem is, I'm no good at tests. I'd flunk a multiple-choice test if there was only one answer.

Honestly, Tseng's lucky I get out of bed at all in the morning. If it weren't for my overwhelming motivation to get up and stumble to the bathroom to relieve my aching bladder from the previous night's drinking binge, I doubt I'd ever wake up at all. But four minutes? C'mon. It takes me that long just to blink some mornings.

"So what's your excuse this time, Reno?" he'd said. "Car problems? Traffic? Forget to have the front desk at the Honeybee give you a wake up call?"

Ok, so I'm just paraphrasing. He didn't really say that stuff about the Honeybee to me-he wouldn't dare-but I knew he was thinking it by The Look. He doesn't have to say anything with The Look. It could freeze a fire-bat in mid air. It's a look that sums up 25 years of disappointment and annoyance and failure focused like a laser through my eyeballs, my skull, and into my very soul. And it's one he's been giving me a lot lately.

Thing of it is, I really like Tseng. He's the coolest person I know, and he's not bad company when he's not all business. I know he knows how to smile and laugh-I've seen him do it once or twice, usually at my expense. Of course that was after hours. I don't think he knows how to smile on the clock.

It's not like I intentionally go out of my way to annoy him, I'm just good at it. I guess I go out of my way to get his attention and usually just look like an ass in the process. I want him to notice me, to think I'm worth more than the rumpled suit I wear every day, to be proud of the work I do. My wet dream would just once tell me, "Good job." Nothing fancy. I don't need a party or a plaque or anything. Hell, he doesn't even have to smile. But that's never gonna happen. Not in my lifetime, or his, whichever ends first.

So why do I care so much about what Tseng thinks? Reno-Who-Never-Gave-A-Crap-About-Anybody, hanging on his boss's every word like they were spun from silk as soon as they leave his mouth... Believe me, if you saw him you'd know why. Everything he does—every gesture, every thought, every word he says—you'd swear he took weeks to plan. It's amazing to watch him work. He's confident and intelligent as hell. He's also one of the most visually striking people I've ever laid my eyes on. He makes Rufus Shinra look like Bozo the Clown. He's a lady's man. He's a man's man. Tseng is The Man...

Ok. Fine. I'm attracted to me boss. There, I freaking said it. Happy?

Far from it...

Took me six months to finally admit that to myself, followed by a drinking binge that I think I'm still recovering from. Of course, you never gradually come to realize these things. They always hit you like a sack full of wet bricks instead. But it's official: I've got a bona fide boner for my boss. Shit, another guy, even.

But he's not "just another guy." If he was just a good looking man, that'd be one thing. I can appreciate a good looking person of any sex without making a big deal about my own preference. But Tseng is different. Sure, the high cheekbones, that long, silken black hair, and those dark almond-shaped eyes sure don't do anything to Help. But it's more than that. He's my mentor, my leader. Everything I know about being a Turk I've learned from him. It's only natural that I'd want his approval, right?

Which I'm not getting. So when he pushes me, I have a natural, inborn reaction to be an asshole. I can't help it. I spent years building a protective asshole bubble around myself; that's 25 years of instinct I'm fighting against. It's been a long time since I cared about anyone else but me, and I'm not very good at the whole team mentality. Relying on myself used to be hard enough. Now other people rely on me, too. It takes some getting used to. Tseng is bound and determined to beat that into me-literally, if he has to-or he'll kill me trying. And that is not a metaphor.

So now it's obvious to see why I'm the most pathetic motherfucker on the planet.

I sat with my head still buried in my hands, listening to the Five O'clock Exodus of cars squealing out of the parking garage until the engine's roars died down and only the occasional screech was heard in the distance. Figures this would be the first night in weeks that I didn't have to work late. Sure, I could take the transit back home and three hours later end up somewhere within a four-mile radius of my apartment, but it was just easier to sit here and mope on the hood of my car. Less energy required.

I heard the familiar purr of an engine nearby and I peeked through my fingers to see a little black sports car idling in front of me. I was determined to ignore it, but the engine revved once, sending a little vibration trembling through my body. I looked up and stared at the tinted windshield with all the enthusiasm I give at one of our team meetings…the ones I actually stay awake for.

The tinted passenger side window slid down with a soft little whine to gradually reveal two black, highly amused eyes. They were about the last eyes I wanted to be looking at at the moment.

"Need a jump start or something?" Tseng asked.

I shook my head. "Nah. It's just flooded. Should be okay here in a few."

The black eyes narrowed skeptically. "Want me to take a look at it?"

Oh great, the knight in black armor here to rescue the helpless damsel. Suppressing my instinct to roll my eyes, I ground out, "No. I'll be fine." The bastard probably did know how to fix my car. He knows how to do every-damn-thing. That didn't mean I was going to let him. I wasn't in the mood for company no matter how damn hot they were.

Something between a frown and a smirk curled at the edge of Tseng's mouth, another expression unique only to him. Anyone one else would've just looked like they were in pain. "So…you just going to sit there all night, then?"

I nodded. "Yep. That's the plan. At least I'll be on time tomorrow."

Tseng released a very controlled sigh but didn't look particularly fazed by my comment. "Get in. I'll give you a ride."

"No, it's OK you don't have to-"

"Reno? Get. In." The Look.

Sheesh. And this was his generous side.

I hesitated for a second, then with a tired sigh, I balled up my uniform sport coat-something I knew would drive Tseng bananas-and tucked it under my arm as I slid off the hood of my car. My feet touched concrete and then I heard-

BANG!

I jumped and spun around, extending my Electro Mag Rod with a flick of my wrist ready to beat the shit out of something, or hit the deck, or run like hell, whichever the case called for. When you carry a weapon for a living—and use it to stay living—you learn to appreciate your jumpy reflexes. But they can also make you look stupid at the most inopportune times. This was one of them.

The hood on my car had snapped back into its original form. I glared at the traitorous thing and thought about beating the crap out of it anyway.

I heard Tseng clear his throat. I whipped back around to look at Tseng through his windshield as he was unsuccessfully smothering a smirk behind a gloved fist. Ha ha. Very funny.

Mortified, I snapped the EMR closed again and scowled darkly at nothing in particular feeling the tips of my ears burn, knowing my face was the same shade of red as my hair. I hate being a redhead.

Yanking open the passenger door of his car, I threw myself down in the seat and sank down low, wishing to become One with the Corinthian leather. Tseng paused a moment to make sure I was settled, then tore off through the parking garage. I sat there feeling awkward in the otherwise quiet car, furiously staring out the passenger window to avoid looking anywhere in Tseng's direction. We were clear out of the parking garage and sitting at a traffic light before he finally said anything to me again.

"That…thing acting up on you again?" he asked casually.

"It's a car, not a thing. It's a classic."

"A classic piece of junk. Why don't you get something that's not older than you?"

"I like that car..." I sniffed. I take insults to my car personally, even if the thing is ugly as sin and more Bondo than actual car at this point. That car is one of the few things, if not the only thing, that I have left that has any sort of history with me. I'm not a sentimental person. I've always been too transient to have that luxury. Besides, I don't like to keep things around that remind me of my past. But that car is different. It's carried me farther than anything else has so far, and piece of junk that it is, it's still more reliable than anyone I've ever known…until now.

"Wilma's been good to me."

"Wilma?" he said. "Where'd you come up with a name like Wilma?"

I shrugged. "My first girlfriend's name was Wilma. She had a big ass. Seemed logical at the time."

Tseng snorted. "And you wonder why you're single."

"No I don't..." I muttered softly, crossing my arms in a huff.

We drove along in silence for a while, heading South through Midgar toward the sector where I live. I was determined to keep my mouth shut. I wasn't interested in small talk. I was still brooding about our meeting earlier today, having left his office with my tail tucked firmly between my legs...again. Now, our close proximity and Tseng's sudden good humor and occasional glances toward my direction were unnerving.

Maybe it was my scowl, or my unusual silence that finally prompted him to ask, "Rough day?"

"You should know," I thought…then realized I'd actually said it. There I go again. I love the taste of my foot. It's a good thing, because I'm always sticking them in my mouth.

Tseng downshifted into second, turning a corner so fast I rammed my nose into the passenger window-with no apology from him-and thought for sure the wheels were going to lift off the pavement and leave my stomach somewhere back in traffic. Not so long ago, I would have thought he was going to try and kill us both, but I've become accustomed to the way Tseng drives. Tseng calls it "creative driving." I call it "time to pick a religion."

The sudden change in direction got me though.

"Uh, Tseng...I live that way," I said, jerking my thumb behind us.

"I know where you live," he said with a smirk so wide it was almost close to being a real smile. "We're going out for a drink. I wouldn't mind one, and you look like you need one."

A drink, huh? That caught my attention. I'd have a drink with the Devil himself if he asked. And he was asking. The only thing that could make drinking better is not paying for it, so I decided to push my luck. "You buying?" I asked, feeling my usual cocky grin settle back on my face where it belongs.

He considered this briefly. "I guess since I'm not giving you a choice...yes."

Score. Now he was speaking my language...

TWO

"So tell me about Wilma," Tseng said conversationally. We'd pretty much ran out of things to bitch about work, and I suppose this was his half-interested attempt to delve a little into his subordinate's personal life. I wasn't buying that he really cared. He was no doubt just making small talk to be polite. He lifted his nearly-empty glass halfway to his lips, then set the glass back down on the table again without drinking it.

"Wilma?" I said. "What about her?"

"Well... How did you meet?"

"I met her by the side of a road." I said. "Someone had abandoned her there."

Tseng looked slightly surprised. "Really. Well, how...altruistic of you."

"Well, clearly nobody else wanted her. She was a mess. The first time I turned her on, she coughed out this horrible death rattle. But I took her home and lubed her up and shut her up real good."

Tseng looked at me like I'd just killed a kitten. "We are talking about your girlfriend. Right?"

I blinked through the smoky haze hanging in the bar. "My what?"

"Wilma. Your first girlfriend?" he said louder, as if shouting at me would make me understand what the fuck he was talking about.

Girlfriend? What girlfriend? I don't do girls...er, girlfriends.

"The one you named your car after? Because she had a big...tail end."

Then it hit me. I really should start write down my own material. "Ooooh." I laughed and shook my head. "I named my car Wilma, as in 'wilma car start?'" I laughed again when he face-palmed and groaned. "That was, what normal people call, making a 'joke,'" I said. I made air quotes around "joke."

He narrowed his eyes and shot me an annoyed look. But it wasn't The Look; the murderous rage wasn't there.

I said, "C'mon, does anyone know a 'Wilma?' In real life? I mean except for the cartoon character."

Tseng tossed the contents of his glass back in his throat. He actually looked disappointed. More than just the butt of an anticlimactic punchline, I mean. Not sure why. Suddenly my romantic life is the most interesting thing to talk about? A conversation about dirt would be more interesting than that.

Maybe he was just trying to connect with me. Not as a Turk or a subordinate. Just one human being to another. God knows we have a hard enough time connecting with anyone else.

"My first girlfriend's name was Angel," I volunteered morosely. "She was anything but. And I was worse."

Tseng nodded thoughtfully as if my last statement had spoke volumes. This is one of the reasons it pays off to be a guy. Grunts, nods, and snorts are all we need to communicate.

I reached for the communal pack of cigarettes from the middle of the table and flipped open the lid. Two hours ago, this had been a brand new pack. There were four left now. I had smoked most of them, and I was surprised to see Tseng—Mr. HardPec BodySlam—indulging himself. It's not that I resent Tseng for being healthy and good-looking. I blame him for being too good looking for me to fucking ignore. And I don't need a lecture about my health; I know I'm one bad habit after another. I don't expect to outlive the life of my organs. I'm also a selfish enough bastard to make sure nobody else can use them either.

I shook one out, placed it between my lips and motioned to Buff CheekBounce across from me. He nodded agreeably. It was clear he smokes to be social. I smoke to stay sane.

I was feeling just bold enough to do the light-both-at once / hand-one-off maneuver, like you see leading gentlemen do for ladies in old black and white movies. Hey, if this was my once chance to act out my fantasy, I was going to enjoy it. I gave them a quick puff and gave one to Tseng. He took it and smiled at me and immediately sucked on it. It was the closest thing to sex I've had in a long time.

"How old were you?" he asked idly, leaning back in his chair and squinting through the gray-blue smoke with that billowed out between his words.

"Sixteen…seventeen, maybe," I said. As a sort of maudlin afterthought, I added: "She was my last girlfriend, too." I tried not to let the direction of the conversation affect my body language. We were getting dangerously close to a subject that I rarely think about…and never talk about.

"Has there been anyone since?" he said.

I barked a derisive laugh. "Geeze, Tseng, are you trying to hook me up with someone?" I could feel myself blushing so I quickly took a drag on my cigarette and blew it out in front of my face to veil my reaction.

He sat back against his chair and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I was just curious."

Bi-curious?

You wish.

"No, nobody else," I said, then quickly added, "I made enough mistakes with the first one. What about you? Ever have anyone ruin-er, special, in your life?"

He smirked wryly at my comment and looked at me like that for a moment. It was just on the edge of awkward when he said, "I met a girl when I first became a Turk… I was a young, stupid kid. She was a lot younger."

"Jail bait, huh?"

He shook his head ruefully. "Yes. Well. No. It wasn't like that. We just talked a lot. Or...I would talk and she would run away."

"Sounds complicated."

Tseng shrugged slightly. "What's complicated? I'm a sociopathic over-protective control freak, and she's a sweet, timid young lady who despises me and everything I stand for."

I took another casual drag on my cigarette. "Ouch. Hates?"

He nodded. "I see her now and then. We have an understanding: She allows me to check up on her once in a while without trying to punch me in the crotch if I don't choke the life out of every living thing that comes within ten feet of her. No complications."

"Holy shit. I thought I had relationship issues."

He grinned. "Care for another round?" he said, nodding at the empty glass I was absently playing with.

I looked down at it as if noticing it for the first time. "How many've we had, now?" I was feeling soft but not drunk. My speech was still fairly clear. I was trying to not get completely shit-faced in front of my incredibly attractive boss just in case I did something monumentally stupid I would never forgive myself for. Again.

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Good enough for me.

Tseng caught the cocktail waitress' attention and motioned her over with a casual flick of his wrist. "Is it still Happy Hour?" he asked her when she arrived.

"Yep," she said.

You gotta love the bars in Midgar. And if you don't, I'll love 'em for ya. We could be facing Armageddon with no food, no fuel, no water, and we would still have fully-stocked bars here. There are 3 for 1 specials, all-night happy hours. I even heard of a place that offers discounts for alcoholics, but I haven't found it yet. What everywhere else calls alcoholism, Midgards call it self-preservation. Just drink your beer and shut the fuck up 'cause life doesn't get any better than this.

The waitress said, "Actually, happy 'hour' lasts all night...unless it rains."

Tseng looked dubious. He glanced over at me for some kind of clue. I saw where this was going; he was about to be the victim of English-not-as-a-first-language joke. I shrugged at a loss to help him.

Tseng said, "What is it when it rains?"

"Wet!" she snorted.

Just like that he fell for it. I pretended to find something interesting on the table at that exact moment; I didn't want to give our server the impression that she was actually funny.

Our server wasn't entirely unattractive. By default, she was the most beautiful woman in the whole bar. What she lacked in charm, she more than made up for it in hair products. And she had the straightest teeth I've ever seen for a horse.

But she was serving us drinks as fast as we could throw them back, and that made her an absolute goddess.

"Four more," Tseng muttered. I could feel his glare blazing into the crown of my skull.

"Gotcha," she said scribbling on the bar tab. "Now, was that four more not including the free ones? Or just four total?"

"Surprise us," I quickly jumped in on Tseng's behalf, flashing her most charming grin. I can be personable when I want to.

She nodded and stamped her hooves then trotted away swishing her tail behind her.

"She'll make a fine ex-wife for someone someday," I said.

"Be nice," Tseng admonished, though not very effectively through the laughter he was barely managing to hold back.

"You were about to shoot her yourself."

"I was not going to shoot her. Much."

I looked at him sadly. "Now is that nice? Hurting her would be the last thing I would do." I shrugged. "I mean, it's still on my list…"

Tseng, to my surprise, dissolved into giggles and had to put his head down on the table for a while to collect himself. I was laughing too, not at my own jokes, but because I was utterly struck dumb by the fact that this very same man who could stare down glaciers, who had crushed my ego into tiny bite-sized pieces today and fed them to Rufus Shinra's pet tentacle-dog-beast-thing.

I tapped him on the back of the head. "Hey, might wanna gather your dignity. She's coming back."

Tseng sat up gracefully, back straight, hair falling in the perfect shape, as if that's exactly what he'd planned to do from the day he was conceived in the womb. Bastard. I mean, I don't put any thought in to the way I look, either, I just don't care.

Our waitress came over and dropped off four filled-to-the-rim glasses, two in front of me, two in front of Tseng. I smiled and winked at her. She smiled back and disappeared, just like a good server should. I began to think that this was definitely the last round, though, because she didn't look nearly as bad as when we'd first walked in here.

"What are you doing?" Tseng said.

I shook my head. "What?"

"Are you flirting with her?"

"It's getting us drinks faster, isn't it?"

He scoffed. "Leading on an innocent girl?" He tsked and shook his head.

I cut him a look. "Bullshit. She's no more 'innocent' than I am. How often do you think she flirts, or shows a little more cleavage, or lets some guy pinch her ass to get a bigger tip? Innocence is dead." I picked up my drink and sipped at it.

Tseng leaned on his elbows. "You really believe that?"

I snorted into my whiskey. "You're kidding, right? You do know who we work for."

"Oh, I'm not talking about us," he said. "Our hands have been dipped in so much filth, we should be quarantined. But that's a price I've chosen to pay for my own reasons. I don't think that the rest of the world is fundamentally evil, though."

I took a big gulp of my whiskey and set the glass back down. "No, I'm not saying its evil. Look. We live on a planet where a single company—a power company of all things—was able to bankroll the government into owning a majority of public services so that Shin-Ra had a controlling interest on pretty much everything in this whole town. Amazingly, the government went bankrupt. So Shin-Ra bought the fucking Army. What kind of retards allow a for-profit business to own their own goddamn military?

"Well, I'll tell you: We are. 'We, the People.' We elected the greedy douchsacks that decided it was a good idea to allow businesses to invest an unlimited amount of money in a political interest. Fifteen fucking years later, we live with a million-ton metal plate over our heads because nobody thought it was a good idea to, oh, I don't know, maybe say something when they were building it? That's not ignorance! That's apathy. A big giant Who Gives A Fuck in the failure that is Humanity."

I stabbed out my cigarette that I'd smoked down to the filter. I picked out another and lit it. Tseng watched me warily.

"And you don't have a problem collecting a paycheck from them. "

"Hey, I have to eat, too. What the hell else am I supposed to do?"

Tseng scoffed softly. "There's an old Wutain saying: Be the change you want to see in the world."

"Oh yeah? What exactly should I be changing, Boss? You already yell at me enough for not following orders, so don't proselytize at me, yo. You hired me!"

A little smile played at Tseng's lips. He looked at me like he knew a deep secret he would love to hang over my head. "You want to know why I hired you?"

I eyeballed him skeptically. "I'm not sure…"

"Because you use the words 'proselytize' and 'yo' in the same sentence." He grinned and toasted me before taking a gulp.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't use those words in the interview."

He sighed wistfully and sat back in his chair. "No, but I liked your face."

Hahahaha, wait what?

I pointed to my general face area. "This one?"

Tseng nodded. I could tell this was amusing the hell out of him, but I could feel my face get hot again. It took real effort not to crawl under the table and die there.

"I hired you because you're way smarter than you look."

Hey!

"Hey!"

He laughed at me again. That goddamn ingratiating sexy-as-hell laugh. "That's actually a compliment…for what we do. People don't expect you to be as sharp as you are. It surprises them. I know it did me."

"I'm...not…sure how to take that."

He leaned on his hand and blinked slowly at me. "Now you know how I feel about you."

Now I knew the alcohol really was taking effect because I was convinced Tseng was fucking with me. Like maybe he'd figured out I have the hots for him and he was mocking me. Or maybe he was testing me to see how far I'd let my guard down as if this was some kind of lesson. Whatever the deal was, his sick little game was really starting to piss me off.

I rolled my eyes and glared back at him. "Look, can we rewind this conversation to a point where I knew what we were talking about? I think it was earlier today when you were telling me what a fuck-up I am. I understood that."

Tseng leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratory tone: "Reno, you are in a unique position that allows you to be something more than just another ant in the farm. The planet is full of idiots; if I'd needed one, you wouldn't be here. You have the capacity to be a real leader."

"Yeah, yeah. If I apply myself. Like I haven't heard this before from every fucking adult-figure I've ever met."

"No. If you listen to me and do what I tell you. I didn't get where I am by accident."

I blinked. That was not the answer I'd expected. But if that was unexpected, what he said next really got my attention.

He said, "Look, this stupid little shit I bully you with every day-the lateness, your attitude, your carelessness-that's exactly what it all is: stupid little shit. Yes, we're a military company so we have standards. But those standards are important because I need you sharp and I need you on-point so that when we encounter the Big Deal Shit-and we will-I won't have to worry about you getting yourself killed. I do not have the time or the emotional fortitude to deal with losing you."

Ho. Lee. She. It. Did he just really say that? What…. What…

I sat and stared at him in stunned silence a moment not giving a shit how stupid the expression on my face was undoubtedly looking. I worked up to trying to say something, but I didn't get out the words before he went on.

His tone, his eyes softened. "Do you trust me?"

This wasn't a question of my loyalty to Shin-Ra. This was a question of my loyalty to him. And the fact of the matter was that Shin-Ra signed my paychecks, but it was Tseng I worked under. I'd known the day he dragged my punk ass into his office and demanded I come work for him. I signed on for life that day. My life.

I nodded dumbly. "Yeah," I rasped. Swallowing the desert in my throat as I felt a blush creep up my neck, I added, "Of course." And promptly shut my mouth in case I get the urge to profess anything else to him.

"Then stop fighting me." He leaned over, picked the forgotten smoldering cigarette out of my fingers and inhaled deeply from it. "You should really start taking better care of yourself." He jammed the filter-end of the smoke back between my fingers. I stared at it then made sure to take a big deep drag off it myself. It was wet with Tseng's spit. I tried not to let that excite me too much.

"Tseng, were you always this delightful and I just never noticed?"

One delicate eyebrow inched higher on his forehead. "Oh, I'm a barrel of laughs once you get to know me." he said.

Something about the way he said that felt hollow. I was feeling a little brave, probably from the alcohol. "And does anyone really know you?"

"Oh, sure. Or…do you mean anyone that doesn't want to punch me in the crotch?"

"I guess?"

"Oh. Then no." He stared at me as he gulped the last of his drink, set it down and licked his lips defiantly. That was totally an invitation.

"You, uh. Looking for a volunteer?"

Sly little smirk appeared. "You sure? You might end up wanting to punch me in the crotch."

I said, "I'm pretty sure punching you in the crotch is not what I have in mind."

Bad Reno! Bad! Sit! Stay! Beg….

I couldn't believe he didn't flinch. Not an eyebrow twitch, not an awkward glance, not a single muscle movement. He just sighed and said, "What do you want to know?"

Oh man, this was my opportunity to finally extort a single piece of trivia from Tseng. What did I want to know? "What's with the dot?"

Tseng frowned, bewildered. "What dot?"

"The dot on your forehead."

"I have something on my forehead? What is it?" He reached up and touched his brow. He looked horrified. "Oh my gods! Why didn't you tell me?!"

For 1/25ths of a second he had me. I narrowed my eyes at him. Bastard. "I probably deserved that."

"Yes. Yes you did," he grinned. "I'm not answering that one quite yet. Ask me something else."

"You're gonna have to help me out here, yo. I don't wanna sit here all fucking night playing 20 questions."

Yes you do.

Tseng breathed deeply, laced his fingers on the table. He craned his head back and stared at the ceiling. While he was giving it a think, I picked up my last drink and sipped it.

"Well, I was married once."

Asshole. He did that on purpose.

I choked and sputtered feeling my scorched esophagus rebel. My sinuses burned, my eyes watered like faucets and it was almost a full minute of watching my life flash before of my eyes before I realized Tseng was slapping me on the back. Finally I was able to swallow in a huge breath of sweet, delicious air and I belched loudly and gracelessly. "Bastard," I garbled out, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Sorry," he said, but that grin said he was full of it. "Are you all right? "

I shook my head and jabbed my fingers into my stinging eyes. I always knew he was going to be the death of me, and would've said so if my lungs weren't busy trying to learn how to breathe whiskey.

I took another moment or two to recover, and it occurred to me that Tseng's hand was still hovering on my shoulder. I wondered what he'd do if I passed out unexpectedly, or had an aneurism. CPR? Would I be that lucky? Is there any kind of medical condition that requires an emergency blow-job?

My curiosity got the best of me. "You? Married?" I said glaring back at him. "For how long?"

"Three years," he said.

"How old were you?"

He shrugged. "19...20...21. I think. I'm a little blurry on details. It was a long time ago."

I realized I didn't know his real age. Tseng has one of those eternally youthful faces that Wutain people are genetically blessed with. He looked young. I mean, I knew he was older than me, of course. But he didn't look much older than me. On the other hand, he usually acted like he was older than Old Man Shin-Ra.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You mean besides being young and stupid?"

"Well, yeah, that's a given."

He smirked, this time much more darkly. "She ran off with my lover," he said.

I blinked at him like an average Dalmatian with the intelligence of a bean sprout. His grin widened, eyes glinted, and I even thought I detected a faint blush. "Close your mouth Reno," he said. "You look like the entrance of the Mythril Mining cave."

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

His lover? What kind of lover? Well, duh, how many different kinds of lovers are there. But Tseng wasn't like that. Was he?

By the time my brain had assimilated this knowledge, the cocktail waitress had returned and it was too late to respond. "Need anything else guys?" she asked.

Tseng eyed me warily, shook his head and remarked, "No, I believe I've had enough." I was still staring at Tseng when they both turned to me and waited for my response. At least my mouth was closed now.

Taking the hint, I shook my head to answer it and felt the room spin as if my eyes had yet to catch up with the sudden movement. "Ah...no," I said. "I'm done." Know when to say when.

The waitress set our tab on the corner of the table and left again. I made no attempt to move for it—hey, Tseng said he was buying. "Are you ready to leave?" he said slowly as he peeled off a few gil from a money clip and put it back in his front pocket.

I shrugged, not wanting to cut the evening short but not really in a position to protest it, either. He was my ride, after all. "Whenever you are... You ok to drive?"

"Nope. You?"

I was tempted to say yes just to get the chance to melt into that leather drivers' seat of his car and abuse it for a while. Wilma's a great car; you'd be surprised how fast you get used to the smell of burning oil and gas fumes. But there's not a self-respecting male on the Planet who would turn down an offer to drive Tseng's car. Even as I went to nod my head, though, the room tilted at an angle and I had to hold the edge of the table to keep from falling out of the booth. Probably not a good indication I should be driving either. "Nope."

He considered this a moment. "Well, I don't care where we go," he said. "but I'm not staying here anymore."

"Oh, it's not that bad here."

"Yes, well you're not seeing things from over here. Our waitress keeps eyeballing you. It's...weird."

"Give her a break. She only has the one good eye. Can you blame her for wanting to use it to look at me?"

Suddenly self-conscious and yet still trying to remain inconspicuous I shrank down in to my chair. "Whaddyou mean?" I asked, conspiratorially.

Tseng snorted and dropped his chin into his hand. "Reno, you're so naïve."

I braved a peek over at the bar where my oh-so-lovely admirer was eyeing me like a vulture circling road-carrion. She smiled at me and I felt my stomach drop. I attempted to plaster on a grin—which I'm sure it came out more like a grimace—and nodded at her, preoccupied by that huge gap in her teeth again. I mean...how many teeth can fit in a human mouth and still have room for a ravine like that? Nevertheless, Tseng had been right and I hadn't even noticed. Of course, a girl practically has to jump down my underwear before I even have the slightest clue they're interested. 'Naïve' was a nice way of putting it.

"Well, so?" I began, wondering why he cared and my already floundering tact falling to an all-time low. "What's wrong with that? You jealous?"

He licked his lips slowly and turned a smoldering gaze onto me again. My grin melted as he continued to stare into my eyes, no words uttered from him in return. I felt my cheeks flush warm, and I pictured a hundred and three things I wanted to do to him right then. I saw myself grab a handful of his hair and drag his face toward mine to kiss that goddamn smirk right off his face. I saw it...hell, I could practically feel it, and I knew the mental image only made my face burn hotter, but I couldn't help the idea from entering my mind. "Don't bet on it, Reno," he muttered finally. "She's not my type."

I barked out a nervous laugh, grateful that he'd turned away. "Though you're more than welcome to have her take you home," he added dryly. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"No, no, no, no, n-n-n-n-no," I protested, holding up my hands. "She's not my type either."

"What is your type?" he asked idly, slapping down a large gil note on the table.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "Something that I don't have to worry about carrying a fire extinguisher with me wherever I go."

Tseng chuckled. "Something a little less flammable?"

"Usually a plus," I commented. I watched his hands with a vacant interest, noticing the way the muscles and tendons moved beneath the skin, the way the long fingers curled gracefully and imagined what it would be like to lace my fingers through his. "I prefer a more exotic look," I said through a haze of alcohol and desire. "Foreign over domestic." Err...oops.

But Tseng didn't even seem to make any sort of connection, and shot back at once, "Top shelf, eh? You know, if you lower your standards once in a while you might manage to get laid."

Jolted by his abrupt statement, I stammered to form a protest when he abruptly rose from his chair and motioned for me to join him. We walked through the bar and I pretended not to notice the barmaid waving to me emphatically from the corner of the room. Tseng pushed the door open from behind me and we sauntered/tumbled out into the Midgar evening.

Midgar is perpetually humid. Even when it's not necessarily hot, it's always humid. It leaves a lovely coat of polluted slime covering your skin like a grimy, thin latex. Yet the only rain we ever receive seeps though the cracks in the giant plate above leaving standing puddles of water in the potholes that never evaporate. The whole city smells like rotting mould...on a good day. And the clinics are continually perplexed with the numerous complaints of headaches their patients bring in. Makes me wonder what kind of late night infomercial these "healers" watched to get their degrees from.

Sad thing is, you actually get used to it. I went to the mountains once on an assignment about three months ago and nearly choked on the clean air. My lungs ached with wholesome goodness and my head felt like it was going to detach from my neck and float away like a balloon. My partner just handed me a pack of cigarettes and told me to shut the hell up.

Stumbling around in an almost pitch black parking lot, I was carefully watching my feet maneuver the dangers of the smooth pavement, humming absently to myself, when Tseng stopped me brusquely with a hand over my chest like a mother protects her child in a near-collision. I almost tripped over that, too. I turned to stare at him and he motioned for me to be silent as I followed his intense glare over to his car. I blinked to clear my hazy vision then noticed two dark silhouettes hovering suspiciously by the driver's side door. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him stealthily check for his gun inside his blazer, but he didn't withdraw it. I checked for mine as well, but couldn't feel it. Not wanting to make a big production about where it could be, I coolly straightened my coat and decided I would have to resort to a hand-to-hand fight, if necessary. My stomach tightened into a knot.

He nodded once and began walking very quietly up to the car, never once removing his eyes from that spot. I followed beside him noting how his footsteps weren't even audible, as if he were gliding over air. I tried to imitate but could still hear just a slight shuffling in my own clumsy feet. Fortunately, the two silhouettes were making enough of their own noise to drown out any ambient sounds we could have caused. As we approached the car, he rounded and stood planted by the hood across from the two men. Amazingly, we had remained unnoticed.

"Can we help you?" Tseng grumbled in a low, even tone, his jaw set.

The man by the driver's side door, fumbling around in the dark for a way in to the car snapped his head up in the direction of the voice, his eyes as huge as saucers. He wasn't very old, maybe even younger than myself, but he was big. He dwarfed me by about three inches at least and probably bench pressed someone my size everyday just as a warm up. I swallowed hard, but kept my cool.

Tseng once told me, it doesn't matter what you really look like as a Turk. You could look like a circus midget, the important thing is the attitude. Be a big dog in a small dog's body if you have to. Yep, that's me. I'm just a regular fucking Jack Russell Terrier. If there's one thing I have, it's attitude.

"Fuck you, pal," the guy growled through a thick city accent. "This is MINE."

I noticed his partner secretly slip his hand into his coat pocket and leave it there. I had no idea what he could be reaching for, but fortunately, he was a skinny little broom handle compared to his friend.

Tseng continued his staring contest with the bigger guy. "We don't want any trouble," Tseng said. "If you leave now, you won't get hurt."

The big guy snorted wetly over at his friend. "Get a load a' dis guy, Butch. We gonna get hurt."

"Yeah, Sal...how sweet."

Sal and Butch. My God, I'd be laughing if I wasn't in Turk-mode. But the tension continued to build as we all stood there staring each other down. Tseng never even blinked.

Then, as things often tend to do in situations such as these, everything happened all at once. The big guy lunged across the hood of his car with a snarl, though it wasn't truly clear what his intention was—I think to grab Tseng. But Tseng easily strafed to the side leaving a gaping hole between us and instantly latched on to Sal's coat sleeve, using the momentum of Sal's bulk to help drag him across the hood of the car and pull him down over the other side in a crumpled heap on the ground, his massive arms and fists flailing in 80 directions at once. Tseng suddenly had the advantage—not that there was ever any question—and pressed the heel of his shoe to the guy's throat.

Meanwhile, the little one gallantly produced some sort of telescoping rod from his coat pocket and flung himself at me, using the bumper of the car like a step to catapult himself through the air in my direction. I would've been able to dodge the guy just fine, except that his asshole friend suddenly kicked my legs out from under me, and though I didn't fall, I lost my balance leaving me open for an attack. He tried for a blow to my head which I was able to successfully block with my arm as we grappled close to each other, and I suddenly felt a pain surge from my wrist and through my body where the rod had made contact. "MOTHERFUCKER!" I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled his head close to me and bit his ear. Hard.

Butch screamed like a girl, and I thought it was remarkably hilarious to hear, but I never relinquished my hold on his head...or his ear. He kicked and thrashed around, and somehow I ended up on his back as he bent over and tried to beat me with that stupid stick. Finally I reached down and wrenched it from his hand, jumping off of his back at the same time. He spun around and I held the rod at arm's length to his throat.

I spit his blood out of my mouth on to the pavement between us. His ear was dripping with crimson as he stared at me horrified. "Crazy, stupid son-of-a—"

I brandished the rod and teased him with it, waving it in his face. He took a step back. Over where Tseng and the big guy were, things had suddenly become very quiet in light of a single, distinct *CLICK*. My eyes never left Butch, but he jerked around to his pal. I knew Tseng had finally drawn his gun and was probably pointing it at the guy's head.

"Leave," was all Tseng said. A moment later I heard the sound of rapid footsteps retreating.

"Sal! Sally, where ya goin'?!" called his friend. Tseng reholstered his gun and came up behind me. Butch's eyes grew twice their original size and he began to visibly shake.

Finally, I bared my teeth and snarled nastily at him. He flinched and I enjoyed the wide-eyed look of terror and disgust twisting his ugly face. I gave a wordless bark, and nipped at the air in front of his face, and he flinched again and took off the other way.

"That's it! Go find your girlfriend, Sally!" I called. Then I threw my head back and howled like a wolf.

Tseng collapsed to the ground in front of the passenger door of the car, laughing hysterically between gasps of air. I slid down next to him, laughing just as hard.

"I can't believe you..." he choked. "Barking like a dog..."

"Hey, like you said, whatever it takes," I shot back cheerfully.

We giggled there on the ground for sometime before it finally died and I reached into my blazer to retrieve the last cigarette between us. I lit it, took a deep drag and passed it to him. "You all right?" he asked.

"Dude fucked up my wrist," I said, dropping the rod on the ground in front of me. "This stupid thing's got some kind of electric current in it." I pulled back my jacket sleeve and examined my right arm. A big purple welt surrounded by a large bruise adorned my wrist where a watch would normally rest. Thankfully it had only shocked me through my clothes, otherwise Tseng might be scraping me off the sidewalk right now.

"Is it broken?"

I carefully moved my hand, flexed the fingers and rotated the wrist. It didn't feel good, by any means, but it was moving. "No, I don't think so."

"Well, at least you got a new...whatever that thing is," he smiled, indicating the rod and passing me the cigarette again. "Of course, you realize the stupidest thing about all of this, don't you?"

"No...?"

He hesitated for a moment shaking his head as he softly snickered. "This isn't even my car."

"What?" I sat there, staring at him wide-eyed, a puzzled grin plastered over my face.

"I parked over there." He pointed to another, very similar, black car on the other side of the parking lot. "I realized it about half way through the fight when I managed to wrangle these from Sal." He dropped a set of keys in my hand attached to a big brass key chain with the word "SAL" engraved on it. "I was wondering why the car alarm hadn't gone off."

I thought I was going to pass out from laughing so hard.

"C'mon, Reno," Tseng finally sighed, picking himself up off the ground with the kind of tiredness that only comes from laughing until you feel like your guts are going to spill out of your ears. "We're obviously both too out of it to drive."

"Where we goin'?" I asked, looking up at him as he extended his hand for me to take.

"My place," he said, pulling me up. "I'm only about a mile and a half from here. Let's go get some ice on that wrist of yours…"

THREE

I oozed comfortably into a large overstuffed chair as I glanced around the room. A pair of katana swords, one with at least a 3 foot blade, and one almost as long as I am tall, both hung above a futon adjacent to where I sat. A ceramic Wutain-styled theater mask painted in red and black hung on another wall. It was a comfortable place, basic and functional and neatly kept, and was somehow just so...him. So comfortable in fact that I had an overwhelming urge to put my feet up on the coffee table in front of me, but didn't, of course. 'Make yourself at home' shouldn't be a literal expression people casually toss around. I seriously doubt Tseng would appreciate me trashing his apartment with empty beer bottles and cigarette ashes walking around in nothing but my socks. These are just things you don't care to know about the people you work with everyday.

"How's the wrist?" he asked shuffling out of the kitchen and setting down two glasses of water on the coffee table before lowering himself slowly on the futon.

I gingerly lifted the ice bag perched on the back of my forearm and examined my wrist. The swelling had gone down slightly, but the color of the bruise seemed to resemble a rotten bunch of grapes. And if it looked bad, it felt ten times worse. I gave me a distinctly woozy feel just staring at it.

"Better'n my head will feel in the morning," I lied, dropping the ice bag back on to my wrist as I let my head sag against the back of the chair. If I didn't have to look at it, maybe it wouldn't hurt.

"Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Nothing a little Cure materia can't handle."

Tseng scoffed. "You don't need that shit."

I knew there was no way that an elephant had come in and sat on my head, but getting my head to realize that was a different story. It took great effort to lift it and look at him, but I had to know what he was talking about now. He never swears unless he means business. "Eh?"

"Materia..." he simply said as if that explained all the mysteries of the universe. He paused and took an unusually long gulp of water. "You don't need it. It's bad for you."

Oh boy. I could feel a lecture warming up in his voice. Any minute now, he'd break out the pie charts and slides. But despite my lack of enthusiasm to delve into any more thoughtful conversations tonight, I naturally took the bait anyway. "What are you talking about?"

"What does materia do?"

"Well..." I hesitated. If I'd known there was going to be a test this evening, I would've had more to drink. Tests and I don't get along in the least. "It depends on the materia."

Tseng shook his head vehemently. "Cure materia, Reno. What does Cure materia do?"

"Umm..." I knew this. I really did. It was just gonna take a moment or two to dredge it up from the bottomless pit of my brain, and thinking hurt at the moment. "It...accelerates the human body's natural ability to heal itself."

"Very good, you did study..." he smirked.

I shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah, well..."

"What happens, then, when your body begins to rely on that acceleration?"

Jeeze, Tseng was persistent. No rest for the weary, drunk or injured, that's for sure. And I was all three. I thought for a moment that maybe if I didn't answer him, he'd just start talking and I could tune him out like usual.

"Well...?"

No such luck. Fine. Fine. I'd humor his little quiz and give him what he wanted to hear. I knew the answer anyway, I just didn't buy it.

"Your body doesn't heal as fast naturally," I finished tiredly.

I'd read plenty of the underground propaganda circulating on the horrors and disadvantages of materia use, usually two seconds after I ripped it out from under my windshield and two seconds before I wad it into a ball and throw it on the ground. I never thought Tseng actually bought into it, though. Truthfully, there isn't any conclusive evidence either way, just a lot of New Age hippies speculating. The same kind of people who hand you a glass made of genuine quartz crystal filled with wheat grass extract and tell you to drink it to align your chakras, or some such shit.

Personally, I think all those theories are just a bogus cash cow, marketing out new religions to a bunch of gullible sheep. I say stare into your goddamn crystals all you want, but I am NOT drinking a glass full of moss because you tell me it's good for my health. I'm a little more discriminatory in my dogmas than that. You want money to go smoke your expensive dope from some 8-armed octopus bong with your hippy-dippy friends and prance around an incense stick all night? Fine. Ask me. I'll contribute to your cause. I, at least, can appreciate that. Some of the highest thinking I've ever managed was when I was baked out of my gourd. But don't sell me some crystals and tell me to chant a few haikus every morning and expect that it's gonna prolong my life and cure all my ailments. Fuck that. Gimme materia any day. My wrist hurts and I am not gonna marinate myself in a bunch of herbs and spices when I'm pretty damn sure I can be done and on my way in about two seconds flat with one materia spell.

I snorted to myself with the last freight train of thought that had hit me, unaware I had done so out loud. "Something funny?" asked Tseng.

"Not really," I shrugged. "I just didn't peg you as the type to buy into all that metaphysical bullshit, that's all."

He cocked his head to the side and eyed me suspiciously. "Really... So you think you know all there is to know about me then?"

"Not at all," I backpedaled at once. "It just seems like an uncharacteristic hobby for a Turk."

"Hmm," he said with a thoughtful frown. "'Hobby,' huh? It's not a hobby. It's just Nature," he shrugged. "We all come from the Planet, and the Planet binds each of us to it, and when we die, we return to it. It's like an energy. Some people have just have the ability to manipulate or influence that force."

"Didn't I hear that in a science fiction movie somewhere?" I commented dryly.

"Maybe. But you know what they say... Truth is stranger than fiction."

"Yeah, but fiction sells," I wearily sighed. "Look, all this stuff people do to prolong their lives—I'm not saying there might be not be SOME truth to it, but I've never seen any evidence. And it doesn't matter to me anyway because I have a better chance of dying tomorrow than I do for living one extra day beyond 'normal life expectancy.'"

"You're a skeptic."

"No," I corrected immediately. "I'm a cynic." That's right. Proof might be in the pudding, but I sure as hell wasn't gonna eat it—I hate pudding.

Tseng regarded me calmly for a moment. "Wouldn't kill you to keep an open mind," he said. "Might come in useful. Even for a Turk."

"Hey, I'm as open-minded as the next guy. It's just the things I've come to believe I've based on personal experience. I don't just go and buy into everything because some new-age idiot wrote a book that happens to be on the best seller list."

"So...you admit you are inexperienced..." Those words slid off his tongue like rich cream until the last word was a dangerous hiss. Tseng had either managed to cleverly change the subject, or put me exactly in my place. I wasn't sure which, but either way, it got me to shut up.

Tseng does that. He doesn't throw around words uselessly so when he says something, it almost always demands my attention. He's got this real—smart—way of cutting me off before I've said too much, something I admit I need help with once in a while. Throws a monkey wrench in my train of thought.

Like now. How the hell was I supposed to respond to that? All I could do was stare at him numbly, into those liquid black eyes, eyes that make you squirm with you really look into them. And that goddamned smirk…like he knew something about me. Everything. Like he knew it would catch me off guard and it was nothing but a trap to get me to admit something I don't want to. Christ... What was I supposed to say?

"I guess..." I shrugged flippantly, trying not to blush. It was about this time I considered leaving. I probably should have left. But my head was still whirling, and the chair was so cozy, and my arm... Drunk or not, I still knew where I lived and I still had two perfectly working legs. It wasn't like getting home was impossible, and if I had any sense I'd just go before I said or did something stupid. My problem was that even if my conscience was in perfect working order, I just didn't want to.

Okay, okay I would go. But I just wanted to clear my head a bit...yeah. That was it.

"What if I could show you?" Tseng's voice shook me right out of my reverie.

Show me… And how I wish he would. I blinked at him and tried to stay focused on the topic. "Show me what?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well, it's clear that you just need a little more persuasion." He stood up slowly, setting his glass down on the coffee table as he rose. It seemed to take him a full minute. I forget how tall he is sometimes and it always strikes me again at the strangest moments. Rising from the already low-rider futon, it was like watching him inflate: he just eventually got taller and taller until he was standing up at his full height. I watched him carefully not fully aware of his intentions, wondering if I should follow him or just stay put. I decided staying put was best until told otherwise.

Yeah, that's it. Good boy, Reno. Sit. Roll over... Beg.

Tseng approached me and knelt down in front of my chair. I literally had to force myself to remain calm. I felt like my whole skeletal structure would either collapse or burst out of my skin depending on whatever he did next. Seeing him kneeling on the floor poised in front of me, a million and four outrageous thoughts floated to mind and lingered there. I tried not to look directly at him; I was sure he'd be able to read every thought in my head as if I'd tattooed them all over my face. Tseng proceeded to make himself comfortable by my side like it was a routine thing to do, oblivious to my filthy imagination. Thank god for small favors.

"Ok, let me have a look." He removed the ice pack from my wrist and picked up my arm before I could protest. His touch was gentle enough, but I wasn't concerning myself with that aspect of things at that particular moment.

"What are you gonna do?" I asked warily.

"Just...try to relax," he said casually.

"Try?" I repeated uncertainly. I did not like the way he'd phrased that. This was my favorite right arm we were talking about here. I guess you could say I was rather attached to it.

"Reno, just shut up."

Tseng studied my arm thoughtfully for a moment, pushing my sleeve up above the crook of my elbow. Then he clasped my hand with his as if to shake it, and with his other hand, he reached up and gripped my forearm, firmly, but not enough to hurt. I watched him, trying to keep a sort of detached interest in what he was doing. So far it didn't seem so bad. He took in a slow, deep breath and let his eyelids drop, then exhaled just as slowly. If his lips hadn't parted and formed the slightest O, I wouldn't have realized he was breathing at all. I began to notice the pressure of his touch, which seemed to be gradually increasing as he exhaled, but as the pressure intensified, so did the pain. His long fingers were digging hard into what must've been two main nerve junctions: one in my hand just inside the web between my thumb and forefinger, and one on the upper side of my forearm right near the crook of my elbow. Try to relax? It was taking monumental effort not smack him away on reflex.

The entire ordeal probably only lasted less than a whole minute, but I was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to let go. I became annoyed that I couldn't make some kind of eye contact with him to let him know how much he was hurting me, so I bit my lip hard to try and deflect some of the pain. Finally—blessedly—he eased the pressure and gently massaged the points in small circles. He opened his eyes again and looked up at me a little hopefully. He released my elbow, but his hand moved to cradle my wrist.

"How's that feel?" he asked.

"It hurt like hell!" And now that I thought about it, he was lucky I didn't try to punch him. Try to relax... My ass!

"Yes, but how does it feel now?" he asked pointedly.

I hesitated a moment and gave him a skeptical glare. Then, experimentally, I flexed my fingers—a considerable improvement over letting my arm hang uselessly by my side as if a bowling ball had been grafted to it, which is what I'd been doing on the walk over to his place and since I'd gotten here. I cautiously rotated my wrist, which Tseng still had careful hold of, and turned my arm over. And I didn't feel a thing.

"Actually...it feels pretty good," I said, unable to hide the wonder in my voice. I wasn't sure if the absence of pain was attributed to his little technique, or just because my pain receptors were so goddamned thankful he wasn't pinching me anymore that they went off and took a nap somewhere. "What did you do, anyway?"

He grinned mysteriously and said, "Ancient Wutai secret."

Well, color my ass impressed. I wasn't ready to go renounce my lifestyle and join a monastery or start building any temples in Tseng's name, but that was a pretty neat little trick. Acupressure, I think they call it. Made me wonder what else he could do with those hands...

Speaking of which, I caught his eyes and drew attention to the fact that he was still holding my wrist. "You're not gonna do it again, are you?" I'd had enough lessons in Metaphysics for one day.

His grin widened into one of mischief. "Do you want me to?"

"Only if you feel like eating my fist," I scowled.

Tseng snickered and shook his head, then his smile softened as he glanced down at his hand laying on top of mine. "Why? Does this bother you?" he asked simply, indicating where he still touched me.

I hesitated for a moment, feeling like I could step on a landmine at any point and have the whole thing blow up in my face. "No..." I answered cautiously.

His thumb brushed over my pulse point for just a brief second. I didn't know if it was intentional or not. "Are you sure?"

Well, I wouldn't say that it was necessarily bothering me. Unsettling, maybe, but not bothering. Truth was, I was all keyed up over the fact that he was still even touching me, but I wasn't sure of his intentions and I was almost positive that he wouldn't still be holding my hand that way if he knew how arousing it was for me. One insignificant shift of his fingers on my skin seemed to electrify every nerve in my body. This could become embarrassing if he didn't stop... Not that I was making a grand effort to stop him. "I just...don't know what you're gonna to do next."

"And you said earlier you trusted me," he mockingly sniffed.

Oh sure. Throw that back in my face. Why did I have the distinct impression he was deliberately baiting me, here? It was getting to be extremely frustrating. For every question he threw out, I had a dozen loaded innuendos lined up behind them to throw back, all of them popping up in my head like individual bubbles of perversion just waiting for me to relax enough to let one slip free. Usually, I don't think twice before I say something; I regularly change feet when I open my mouth. But now I was having to think three times as hard before saying anything and it was getting a little tiring.

"Of course I trust you," I said. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

Tseng grunted skeptically then let his eyes fall to my hand. "You can relax," he assured. "I won't hurt you. I just want to make sure you're going to be all right." He brushed his thumb softly over the inside of my wrist again, and I felt myself tense up in reaction. Now that was on purpose.

God, I didn't want him to stop... I could feel his fingers scorching my skin, and it was soothing and exciting and nerve-racking all the same. "I'm getting there," I said through a shaky exhalation, feeling my stomach twist in knots. I closed my eyes and dropped my head back against the back of the chair again, trying to concentrate on his touch at the same time I was trying to block it out.

"Been a long time since anyone just touched you?" he asked softly. The smile was gone from his voice and he was deadly serious.

I swallowed thickly and nodded. "A little."

He fell silent again for a moment, contemplating. "Hm. That's too bad," he said. He shifted his hold and began to massage my hand, tracing the tendons and bones with light but firm pressure. "You know, touch itself can be quite therapeutic," he mused.

Yeah, and that's not all it was... I shifted just a little uncomfortably in my seat, hoping he wouldn't notice, but I'm pretty sure he did. "Do you like to be touched, Reno?"

"Oh...sure," I weakly agreed, trying to sound casual and not succeeding very well. I sighed quietly and dug my fingers into the chair, trying not to let him affect me, trying to concentrate for just a minute on anything other than what he was doing. His hands were sure and dexterous and he seemed to know exactly what to push or knead to get the best results. Results that had me reduced to—pardon the expression—putty in his hands. Thing of it was, he hadn't even touched anything but my arm and my hand, and even that was starting to drive me wild; I couldn't stop my mind from wandering.

"Most people don't like to be touched," he said evenly, carefully turning my hand over to massage my palm. "People are so concerned that someone else will invade their 'personal space' these days. But as the population expands, our personal space decreases. Pretty soon, we'll have no longer have any choice but to just stop—" He paused for a moment, and dragged his nails out from the center of my palm to my finger tips, an action that sent shivers racing from my hand up my arm and through my entire body. I shuddered visibly. "—and touch one another..."

What the hell? Tseng has a two-mile wide "personal space" bubble around himself. He gives off the usual impression that if you touch him, he'd break your fingers one at a time, and then reset them for you just so he could do it again.

It occurred to me that I'd never heard Tseng talk so much before. In fact, for Tseng, this was pretty damn wordy. That wasn't like him. His tone, deep and smooth like glass, had begun to weave me into a state of serenity, and my defense was waning as my arousal increased. Was this merely conversation anymore...or seduction? I didn't know... I was confused. And while I had been enjoying it, I still couldn't ignore the alarms going off in my head.

Suddenly, I clenched my fist into a ball and glared down at him. "What are you doing?" I growled, annunciating every syllable.

He stopped and looked up at me with a slight look of bemusement in his expression, and nothing more. The almond eyes blinked once, very slowly and catlike, then Tseng regarded me with a calm gaze. "I'm just trying to put you at ease," he said in an utterly composed tone. "If this makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop. All you have to do is tell me, Reno...and I'll stop."

He had me. And he knew it. The problem was I didn't know where. If I pulled away then, it would've been obvious that he'd affected me in more ways than just a little 'invasion of personal space.' But that also seemed so unlike the man I worked with everyday: Tseng, always so cold, distant and aloof toward me, toward everyone... And yet here we had been, bonding like best of friends the whole evening. But...what if his intentions were more than just 'getting to know you?' Just how far was he willing to take this? How far was I willing to let him? If I pulled away then, I'd never find out. In the end, there was really only one solution.

After a long hesitation, I willed myself to relax and opened my hand once again.

Tseng smiled subtly and picked up right where he'd left off.

"Did you know," he went on speculatively, "that in parts of the Eastern continent, is it perfectly ordinary to see two grown men hold hands in public?" His fingers worked my forearm, carefully avoiding the bruise on my wrist, then snaked up my sleeve to massage my bicep. I was only half listening to him now.

"...sex—" And that got my attention right away, "—has nothing to do with it. But over here in the Eastern continent, those taboos and prejudices are quantified by a general fear of intimacy." He wrapped both hands firmly around my upper arm and pulled, dragging his hands downward toward my hand. If my arm could have had an erection, it would have been hard as a rock. "Whether two men embrace, or hold hands or even kiss shouldn't necessarily reflect their sexual preference..."

Fuck it. My body was going to do whatever it was going to do, and I was too damn drunk to puzzle out what Tseng was doing. Two men can kiss each other on the other side of the world and it may not mean a goddamn thing, but we weren't on the Western continent. Holding hands, hugging, kissing...these aren't the kinds of things guys do together while watching the game on Sunday. And fear of intimacy has nothing to do with it. It's a fear of desire, plain and simple. And I was desiring pretty bad.

His voice floated up into my thoughts. "What's your opinion?"

Oh hell. I don't know. Why don't you just kiss me and we'll find out...

It took precisely two seconds to realize that my last thought had actually been audible. Damn mouth. I can never trust it when I need to.

My eyes snapped open and I glanced quickly down at Tseng, steeling myself for his reaction. I half-expected to drop dead from the look of resentment he was sure to give me. But he wasn't mad. Calmly he blinked and quirked an amused eyebrow and studied me patiently. "You want me...to kiss you?" he asked silkily.

I swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the pounding in my chest. There was no use in trying to pass this off as a joke any longer. I'd been dying for this opportunity all night. What's the worse he would do? Maybe he'd throw me out, maybe he'd punch me, but maybe—just maybe—he wouldn't.

Screwing up my courage, I hissed out one single word in response. "Yes."

He hesitated for an eternally long and painful moment, then Tseng's smile widened into a devious grin. Raising up on his knees, he bent over me, his face so close I could feel his breath on my lips. He peered at me and I could see the desire building in his eyes, then Tseng's mouth hungrily covered mine. It was scorching, and insistent and electrifying, and just what I fucking needed. Wow.

Guess it never hurts to ask, ya know?

FOUR

Well..?" Tseng said after breaking the kiss.

I sat there for a moment, limp and unmoving as if my limbs weighed a million metric tons, unwilling to open my eyes just yet just in case it had been a dream. I pressed my tongue to the roof on my mouth, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him, not wanting the sensations to pass. I wanted this moment permanently engraved into my memory.

"Reno?" He probably thought I was unconscious. And maybe I was. There was no way that had just happened. No way. It had been way too good for just a kiss.

Finally I slitted an eye to see him still hovering over me just inches from my face, amusement and arousal mixed in his eyes. I blinked at him. "Wow," I breathed, smiling at him and feeling my cheeks burn. Wow... Well, nobody was going to give me any literary awards, but it was just the perfect word to describe it: Wow.

Tseng's smirk widened into an all-out grin. "Where'd you go?" he teased. His lips still had that wonderful red and bruised look lips get after kissing them long enough. He licked them once and they glistened appetizingly. I should've devoured him right there if I'd gotten my shit together long enough to consider it.

"I dunno," I said, still a little breathless. "I just got this really weird idea that I was kissing my boss, and it was the most amazing thing..." I felt a hitch in my breathing when he reached up and carefully moved a strand of hair out of my eyes, his fingers gently brushing against my brow as he pushed it aside.

"Is that so?" he said idly. "Do you have these ideas often?"

I gazed up at him for a moment, watching him intently as I felt my desire build for him again. "Yes," I answered truthfully, my voice thick with longing. It caught his attention and his dark, blazing eyes met mine again.

"I've had some pretty interesting ideas myself," he said softly. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours..."

Didn't need to tell me twice. I reached up and dragged his mouth to mine again, kissing him greedily and more fervently than the first. I groaned into his mouth as he sucked on my bottom lip, nipping it lightly, and following it with a soothing lick of his tongue. If desire could melt a person, I would've been nothing more than a puddle of goo and clothes. He closed his mouth over mine to slip his tongue inside my mouth to trace along my teeth, then tangled with mine. Mygodmygodmygod...

Deeper and deeper the kiss grew until we were sharing the breath between us. I began to see stars under my eyelids. My hands moved on their own, moving up to tangle in that magnificent black mane of hair, hair I'd been aching to touch for months. It fell like spun silk through my fingers. And my other hand wasn't exactly idle either, trailing over his back and shoulders, loving the way his muscles jumped underneath his shirt, my touch.

Finally the kiss ended and left us panting for air. Taking a quick breather for a second or two, he stopped to glance down objectively at the position we'd managed to wrangle ourselves into. I had shifted my knees to the side and twisted my upper body the opposite direction to reach him. One hand was still tangled in his hair and the other was now clutching his shirt collar as if the chair had been trying to suck me right into it and I was hanging on for dear life. Tseng was still on his knees at my side, and his arm had been wrapped around my waist. When he'd leaned into me and his elbow sank right into the crack of the seat cushion, it had swallowed half his arm. We looked like a really bizarre game of Twister gone bad.

Tseng tried to push himself up and faltered slightly when he tried to use his hand for leverage and it slipped behind the seat cushion again. "God damn it," he grunted as he fell ungracefully against me, then snorted a laugh despite himself. Obviously he wasn't used to playing the part of the clumsy fool...that was usually my job. I let him go and placed my arms on the chair's armrests, grounding myself to some kind of permanent fixture just in case I went flying off. He scooted around to sit directly in front of me then slowly spread my knees apart, positioning himself between my legs to lean over me again. I blushed furiously as he laid his weight on me, too self-conscious for the moment to wrap my arms around him again, and dug my fingers deeper into the padding of the armchair. My arousal was extremely obvious and the amused look on Tseng's face let me know he noticed it too.

"So," he said arching an eyebrow, "I guess you really enjoyed that." He shifted his weight and ground his hip intentionally into me to tease.

I sucked in a sharp breath of air through my teeth, rolling my eyes to the back in my head as I growled my frustration. Tseng smiled at my reaction and snaked his hand up my thigh, over my hip and underneath my shirt to trace the grooves between my ribs.

"Have you—" he began, then stopped himself again.

"Have I what?" I could practically see the gears turning in his mind, reworking the question in his head. I steeled myself for his question.

"When was the last time you were with another man?"

I'm not sure when the last time I'd ever felt more embarrassed from someone asking me about my experience. I mean, I'd done it all...at least on the other side of the fence. Hell, I'm the one that usually asks questions like that. Well, maybe not that one exactly, but you get my point. Now...it was like I was a virgin all over, for chrissakes. Sure, there was the excitement of a first experience, but there was all the awkwardness to go right with it, not to mention I was damn positive now this wasn't Tseng's first time exploring this field. There were some things that were the same—the kissing and touching—but others were a bit vague and fuzzy. Deciding on honesty, I took a deep breath. "Never," I confessed.

Tseng's eyes widened in mild surprise. "Really."

I shot an annoyed glare at him. "Why's that so hard to believe?" I snapped back.

He made a visible effort to suppress a smirk, turning his eyes coyly away from mine. I rolled my eyes. Jesus, I didn't know I'd ever made the impression that I was someone who had any interest in anything but women. Not that it was a big deal for me what I appeared as to Tseng—at least not any more—but I did have a reputation to keep. Or at least I'd had one...

"No, Reno. Not at all," he said with a definite twitch to his mouth and not at all making much of an effort to hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth. Then he sobered and gazed patiently at me again. "So...what made you change your mind?"

His gaze fell to watch his hand moving under my shirt, trailing his fingers lightly over my stomach. I licked my lips and swallowed hard. "You did." He stopped his hand then looked up at me again. I sheepishly tried to avert the gaze but he was right in my line of sight and there was really nowhere else to look.

But his gaze wasn't accusatory, or mocking, or even really surprised. The longer I stared back at him, the more I imagined he was looking at me rather...affectionately, if not a little bemused. I attempted to relax again when once I got over how awkward everything was becoming. Ten minutes ago this was my wildest dream, and now it was a complete reality.

Tseng must've sensed my unease, and he removed his hand from beneath my shirt and reached up to brush his knuckles lightly across my cheek. Slowly, as he continued to trace my features with his hands, my eyelids dropped. He smoothed my eyebrows with his thumb, then moved to run his fingers across my lips. I parted my mouth slightly and flicked my tongue out just enough to taste his fingertips and received a small hiss of pleasure in reward. Opening my jaw, he slid his index finger into my mouth, and I immediately closed my lips around it and sucked, caressing it with my tongue. I opened my eyes to look at him again, still sucking on his finger as I studied his face. He breathing was deep, and his own eyes were shuttered with deep arousal. "Mmmm?" I intoned.

"You do that very well...for a beginner," he nearly panted. He withdrew his finger from my mouth and pressed his body against me again. This time I noticed I wasn't the only one who was more than a little excited. "Makes me wonder what else you can do." He devoured my mouth again before I had a chance to respond with some smart-ass comment I dreamed up half-a-second later. It obviously wasn't that important, anyway.

I never knew a kiss could be so goddamned arousing. Not any woman I'd ever been with, not my first girlfriend. Hell, even my first kiss at the tender, innocent age of 13 wasn't this memorable—not that I was ever all that innocent. But sometimes I just skip the kissing entirely. Why get more of my body involved than it needs to? I guess I'm just lazy that way. But this was something else...something really different. This was like winning the lottery and watching a kung-fu movie marathon. Things just could not get any better without involving some sort of illegal intoxicant.

His mouth was sensuous and pliable, like kissing the lips of a young woman, yet subtly aggressive, commanding the pace and intensity of the kiss as he explored my mouth. His face was smooth-shaven and I liked the way I could feel my face brush against his skin. He tasted like spiced whiskey and cigarettes and the way he smelled, this sort of clean and musky scent unique only to him made my head spin.

He broke it off and I became aware that he was speaking to me again in that deep voice. I gawked at him like I hadn't understood a word. Not that I hadn't. I actually had understood, every damn word of it in fact, by my mind was skipping over it like a broken record.

"Huh?"

"I said," he grinned, "I want to taste you."

"Oh." It sunk in that time. Like a stone through water.

I must've looked like a rabbit in high beams to Tseng, sitting there as if the remainder of my brain was leaking out of my ears as he waited for me to respond. It occurred to me then that he was actually asking my permission. That despite being more experienced, he wasn't going to take advantage of me. And I also swallowed a little nervous lump in my throat...

What he was asking was a little more involved than just some kissing. Not a whole lot tends to surprise me these days, but for this, I actually had to take a mental step backward and make sure I wasn't going to be waking up from some sweat-soaked wet dream in another five minutes...ten if I was lucky, knowing me.

Tseng began to casually tug at the buttons on my shirt one by one, and I glanced down as his nimble fingers occasionally brushed over my skin and my eyes widened as far as my eyelids could possibly stretch to open as the butterflies in my stomach danced around like they were performing a circus act on speed. My shirt fell open as the last button was unfastened, exposing my bare chest and stomach to the air. Eyeing me carefully through dark, sooty eyelashes, Tseng smirked then lowered his head and licked at the skin on my throat and collarbone. Just as I was convinced that my entire internal skeletal structure had atrophied into the consistency of an overcooked noodle, he captured one of my nipples between his lips and sucked hard on it, and I went completely rigid. Everywhere.

"Ah, Jesus," I gasped, colors dancing psychedelically behind my clamped eyelids. Then he brought teeth into his technique, just nibbling at first, then harder, causing me to twitch muscles involuntarily as I yelped and clawed at him. I was somewhere between feeling like I had just finished running a ten-day marathon or was just starting one, panting loudly and pumped so full of adrenaline I could feel my pulse banging away like a drum in my throat. "Reno..." he breathed up against my skin, now demanding an answer. Then he brushed his hand against my crotch for a little added persuasion.

"Yesssssss," I hissed. I didn't know if I was ready or not, but I decided not to think about it any longer. Not like me to really think about things much anyway... I'm more of the act-now, think-about-it-in-two-weeks-when-you're-sober-again, school. Tseng just needed no further encouragement. Swiftly, he unbuckled my belt one-handed, and I watched with my eyes wide open as he began to loosen my waistband. Like fucking eternity, he took his time with it too, making damn sure I wanted it, and that I wouldn't be able to change my mind when all the build up eventually paid off. Finally he unzipped my fly freeing my erection in one swift and simple movement.

"No underwear?" he questioned wryly, the amusement in his eyes returning for a moment.

I laughed nervously and shrugged my shoulders. "Well...you know. They just get in the way."

I'd barely said the words before his hand was around my shaft as if he didn't care what I had to think on it anyway. He dipped his head and lashed his tongue out lapping at me gently, tasting the moisture drooling from the tip. I moaned out loud, and then hearing my little signal of encouragement, he opened his mouth and took me all...the way...in.

I had already decided some time ago—privately, mind you, this wasn't something I went around debating at office parties or anything—that the best person to service a man would be another man. Logically, after all, a man knows what a man wants. And Tseng was doing an incredible job of proving my point.

I clenched my jaw and crushed my eyes shut, focusing all my attention on the sensations Tseng was giving me. He was leisurely and methodical about it, plunging down on me rapidly and then sucking his way back up to the tip at an almost achingly slow pace. I tried to thrust deeper into his mouth, but he managed to restrain my hips against the back of the chair with one arm, and with his free hand, he traced his fingers lightly down my balls and cupped me there, squeezing lightly and releasing again in perfect synchronization with his mouth.

God that mouth...so impossibly hot and wet. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer. I was trembling and twitching, and with every little jerk I gave, Tseng seemed to smile against my skin and do those things that made me twitch and tremble more. My hand found the back of his head and I dug my fingers into his hair and clawed at his scalp, opening my eyes again to see his lips stretched around me and those eyes, like two dark pools, staring up at me through shadowed lashes. Jesus. Just so fucking...beautiful.

I felt that familiar pang in the pit of my groin. Panting and gasping for air, I still somehow managed to groan, "Oh God, Tseng...I'm so close..." A word of warning, I suppose. I didn't know how far Tseng was willing to go. He might've pulled back and stopped right there, or finished the job some other way, or even suggest that I do it myself, but all my little confession did was encourage him to quicken the pace a little and do this...thing with his tongue, flicking it against the most sensitive part of my flesh and driving me completely over the edge.

I think I shouted when I came, but I was completely deafened by the blood pounding in my ears I couldn't hear anything else. Every single muscle in my entire body stiffened and convulsed. I felt Tseng's hand weave up my bare chest as my back arched out of the chair, and I took his hand in mine and grasped it hard, as wave after wave of my release shocked through me like ribbons of electricity spiraling through my body.

Finally, it was over. I collapsed back in the chair and consciously reminded myself to uncross my eyes as I blinked them open, teaching myself to breathe again without moaning... I felt myself twitch slightly as Tseng released me from his mouth and planted light kisses on my hip and stomach. He watched my eyes closely, and I offered him a tired smile.

"How do you feel?" he asked propping his elbow up on my thigh and leaning against his hand.

How do I feel... Now, this had to be a trick question. How did I feel? Like I'd transcended space and time. Like God Himself came down and personally handed me the Kingdom of Heaven. Like I'd just had the single best sexual experience of my entire life. You think I'd actually say anything that inspirational? Pssht. Yeah right. "Pretty fuckin' good," I wheezed.

Tseng grinned broadly as if he hadn't expected anything else. Then he rocked back on his heels and pushed himself up from the floor. Standing beside my chair, he bent over me to give me another kiss on the mouth, a deep one, long and slow, then broke it off and disappeared into the kitchen as I melted back into the chair.

Once, right before I became a Turk, they stuck me in this sensory deprivation chamber for three days so I couldn't hear or see anything outside. It was all part of this test they gave me to see if I could handle stressful situations. It was the most bizarre crap I'd ever been put through, like I was going through astronaut training or something. Between the quick bursts of flashing lights going off trying to scare or blind me, and groaning noises stirring around in the dark, or choking back nausea as the whole chamber seemed to spin around, I would sit on the floor, blinking in the pitch black to make sure my eyes were still actually open, or humming once in a while to make sure my ears and voice still worked. As I sat there I would actually...feel things. Things about my own body, like my skin. I could actually feel my own skin. I could practically feel the hair grow on the back of my arms, feel the warm air press into my pores. Feel the sweat drip down my face like fingers of a lover brushing against me. It didn't bother me. In fact, I found it to be quite amazing to be so in tuned with your own body you could tangibly recognize the most insignificant sensations.

As I sat in the chair practically unable to move, my whole body felt really light, like I was full of helium and if I wasn't holding on to the armrests, I'd go drifting off into infinity. Sweat dripped down my forehead and tickled a trail down my temple, my body seemed to go through extreme flashes of hot and cold, the muscles in my thighs and stomach were still twitching from overexertion. And I could feel it. All of it.

I heard Tseng pad back into the room and stop to lurk beside me. I opened my eyes to see him sipping brandy out of a snifter glass. He perched himself on the edge of the armchair and offered me the glass. As I took and drank from it, he stretched out before me, laying across me in the chair and dangled his long legs off the other side. I couldn't help notice how lithe his form was again, how catlike and graceful. Lean and packed tight, yet not heavy at all. I took another small sip of the alcohol and leaned over to kiss him, passing the brandy from my mouth to his. He drank it eagerly from my mouth, sucking at my lips and tongue and finally breaking it off to sit contentedly in my lap, sipping from the glass.

I watched him thoughtfully. He seemed satisfied enough, but I got this gnawing little voice in the back of my head that kept wondering about him. I mean, Jesus, how could I repay that? I doubted my own technique given my lack of experience, and yet I sort of felt obligated to offer him something.

"Hey...Tseng?"

Tseng smirked over the rim of the glass like he already knew what I was going to ask. "Don't worry about it, Reno."

I stammered for a second, then shook my head to clear it. "No. Wait... I mean...what about you?"

He turned and looked at me fully. "Did you enjoy it?"

He had to be kidding, right? I frowned at him like the answer should have been as obvious as the sun not rising over Midgar tomorrow. "Well...yeah. Of course."

"Then don't worry about it," he said with an easy shrug. "I did it because I wanted to, not because I thought you would owe me anything for it."

And just like that he was willing to shut me out. He might as well have been sitting across the room the way he was just shrugging me off as if the last 15 minutes hadn't happened at all.

But I wasn't about to let him. Fact of the matter was, I wanted to make Tseng feel good. I wanted to hear him make the same kind of sounds he'd forced from me. I wanted to feel his skin on mine, make him twitch like he did me, see the lust in those piercing eyes when he called my name...just some kind of reaction other than that cold, detached mask he wore every day. No, dammit, I was not about to let him dismiss me like that. Not this time.

"No," I argued, taking the glass from his hand and setting in on the floor beside the chair. I scooped him in my arms and leaned forward into him, attacking his mouth with bruising force. I'd caught him off guard and he tensed for a moment, then finally relaxed, allowing me this time to control the pace. I left his mouth and kissed a trail down his neck, licking the brown skin stretched over his collarbone as he dropped his head back languidly.

"Well, okay...if you insist," he breathed through a shaky laugh. I began to unbutton his shirt, but was fumbling miserably as if I'd never undressed myself before...or someone else, as the case actually was. You'd think after twenty-five years I'd know how to work a button, but my pulse was pounding so hard I think it actually interfered with my motor control. "Reno," he said, catching my wrist in a firm grip. I stopped and studied his expression for a moment and realized he was getting just as impatient with my clumsiness as I had been. He removed my hand from his shirt and I blinked at him, not knowing what to anticipate. I half-expected him to stand up and tell me to get lost. Just that damn unreadable expression... "No worries," he shrugged, offering a lazy half-smile. He grabbed the sides of his own shirt and yanked it apart sending buttons flying in a myriad of directions followed by a subtle ripping sound. He blinked coyly up at me in silent invitation.

I just sat there for a moment staring at him with a cheesy grin plastered on my face. Smooth skin, finely sculpted like a marble, lean muscles rippling underneath like the way a cat arches against your hand when you stroke it. I touched him, experimentally at first, tracing the cords of muscle with my finger. I scanned the length of his body, trying to memorize every line and curve, and my eyes fell on a little mark right at his hip facing away from me. Curious, I traced the mark, wondering at first what it was. It wasn't until I touched it and then looked back at his face to see his reaction before I figured it out. If I didn't know better, I'd say he almost blushed.

"Is that…?" I began, squinting and leaning over for a closer look.

Tseng looked away shiftily, as if I'd discovered an embarrassing defect. Without another word, he pulled his shirt open completely and I saw almost at once that the mark wrapped around to the other side over his ribs. He finished undressing to the waist, threw the ruined shirt aside, and then slid to the floor on his knees in front of my feet, his back toward me. He moved his hair over his shoulder to give me a clear view of his back, and I ogled.

It was a tattoo. And not a small one by any means. It was also some of the most beautiful ink work I'd ever seen. A large Wutain dragon covered his back nearly entirely, the head settling right between his shoulder blades and the serpentine body curving over his back, wrapping just at the edge of his ribs on both sides, and ending with the tail curling right at his hip where I'd first noticed it. My mind just boggled. Not because of the artwork necessarily. Just because I never imagined Tseng would have a tattoo, let alone one like this.

"Jesus," I whispered. I leaned forward to trace my fingers over the design. "This must've taken forever."

He chuckled once, softly and humorlessly. "No. Only about two years."

"I never pictured you the type," I grinned, leaning forward more to drag my nail lightly down his spine.

He arched his back, turned and then pulled me by my arms out of my chair to the floor with him. "I wasn't exactly the marrying type, either," he smirked at me. "Nor a lot of other types. What exactly did you expect me to be, Reno? A robot?"

Well, that shut me up. The man had goddamn near read my mind. So normally cold, emotionless, distant… Efficient. Punctual. I don't know if that was a robot per se, but I wasn't sure it was really human either. This was something else all together. I just didn't know what to think.

I let him pull me to my knees with him on the floor. His face was as close to me as it could be without having to look at him cross-eyed. "I dunno," I croaked, humbled by that gaze. "I didn't expect this."

He searched my eyes a moment, that knowing trademark smirk returning to its usual place. "Good or bad?" he asked.

I couldn't help but smile back. "Oh, definitely good."

I leaned forward and stuck my tongue out, dipping my head to taste the pool of salty sweat beading up in the valley of his throat. He sighed as I nipped lightly at his neck and gave a slight shudder...but I noticed.

I was suddenly all too interested in what other reactions I could get from him now to care about why this was happening anymore. My hand wandered southward, almost like it had a mind of its own, and slipped beneath the waistband of his pants. His gasp of pleasure made me grin like a wolf. "Let's see what else you've been hiding under that suit," I growled.

I buried my face in the hollow of his shoulder near his ear, breathing in the scent of his hair as it tickled my face. Tseng reached up to thread his fingers in my own hair, and taking this as a sign of approval, I lightly brushed his arousal with my fingers over a thin layer of raw silk as his hips began to move against my hand. Tseng moaned and clenched his eyes shut. Apparently, I was doing something right.

I tightened my grip on him just a hair and stroked his full length over the soft material, memorizing his length and the shape of him. His hand clenched tighter in my hair, hard enough to almost hurt, then released it immediately again. Finally, as my hand continued to stroke him, his control finally shattered and he growled out in a voice I hardly recognized, "I...want...you."

I nuzzled his ear, nipping at his earlobe. "Tell me what to do," I purred before I'd even realized what I'd just agreed to. His eyelids opened and he met my gaze again, searching me with those burning, obsidian eyes.

"You're sure?" he asked, his voice strained. I couldn't help but admire that last little thread of control he had left to ask me.

Almost mechanically I nodded my response, hypnotized by his gaze. Saying no wasn't an option right now. At that point, the word 'no' wasn't even in my vocabulary.

He shifted back on his heels, and I grudgingly dropped my hand from him. He stood and pulled me up with him, then moved his hands slowly in back of me to cup my shoulder blades as his mouth attacked my throat, sucking hard at the at the crook of my neck and shoulder. Another brush of his fingers to trace the curve of my spine and I curled my toes in the carpet and leaned into him weakly.

"On your knees, over there," he commanded, motioning to the futon with his chin. Tentatively, I pulled away and made my way over to the futon when he stopped me again just before kneeling down, hooking his index finger in the belt loop of my pants. "Wait..." With my back now to him, his arms encircled my midsection and slowly he began to peel me from my clothes until they pooled at my feet and I stood naked in front of him.

I sighed and dropped my head back against his shoulder as he stroked my neck with feather-light touches, shifting incrementally as I felt and heard him shed the rest of his own clothing, never once letting his skin break contact with mine. His bare chest pressed to my back and the heat of his skin caused me to break out in a sweat. It seemed to take him forever before he was finally all unclothed, and just when I thought he couldn't possibly drag this out any longer without causing me to collapse in tears of frustration, he pressed his hardened flesh to my back, causing me to gasp out loud at the sensation.

God how I wish I could've seen him standing there—I imagined how beautiful he must look, tanned skin stretched over lean muscle, blue-black hair cascading over his bare shoulders like a waterfall and falling over eyes of obsidian glass. But he wouldn't let me turn in his arms, and I was about to fight him to do it. Finally he pulled back away from me, and at once I missed the heat of his skin against mine as the air rushed over me. I shivered. Not because I was particularly cold, but because for the first time since the whole encounter started, I was aware of my own nakedness.

Not that I have anything to be ashamed of really. I mean, yeah, I could stand to gain a few pounds, but despite my best attempts to treat my body like a proverbial nuclear waste dump, throwing every worst possible chemical and polyunsaturated fat down my gullet at every opportunity, I still resemble a wire coat hanger. Somewhere along the line, the Holy Lord of Genetics had blessed me with a high metabolism, despite my lazy reputation. Nah, I really can't complain. And since becoming a Turk, I'd even managed to poke a muscle or two out of my arms and chest, and my stomach is still as flat as a table.

But Tseng hadn't disappeared. I could feel him lingering close behind me, feel his eyes on me, burning with desire as he hummed appreciatively. I'd never been the one out of control, never let my guard down. Now I had no choice. Humiliating as it was it was also really turning me on.

"Kneel."

Slowly, I did, feeling his hand rest on my shoulder and gently pushing me down, more out of reassurance than to force me. As I dug my fingers into the cushion of the futon in front of me, I realized that my hands were trembling with...anticipation? Uncertainty? ...Fear? No, I didn't think the latter as much as the other two. I still reserved a fair amount of suspicion for Tseng, for as much as I really admire and trust him, if tonight had taught me anything, it was that he could still be unpredictable as hell…

FIVE

Hurry up already, I haven't got all night.

Well...actually I did. And I knew that the only thing that would have gotten me to move from this very spot was if the sky was falling down on my head. Maybe. But kneeling there, waiting for him to do something, anything... I finally had a true glimpse of what an eternity in Hell must be like. Screw all that fire and brimstone nonsense, this was real torture.

I could hear him in back of me...doing stuff. I wasn't sure what exactly, and even though I was technically free to move as I wanted, I felt paralyzed. Shit, I was afraid. Afraid to move, afraid to say anything. God knows my mouth gets me out of more situations like this than into them. One wrong word from me and I could mess up this whole thing.

I was just about to whimper out of frustration, when Tseng knelt in back of me and swiftly wrapped me in his arms. And then I did whimper because it was the only sound I knew how to make as I felt the warmth of his skin against my back. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me for a sec," I said shakily, though it came out more as a pant as Tseng began to kiss my ear.

His lips captured my earlobe and I felt him grin against the skin as he nipped at it with his teeth. "Forget I have a naked man on my floor? How stupid do you think I am?" He darted out his tongue and tasted my neck, the wet warmth and rough surface glided over my flesh, causing me to shudder involuntarily.

"Well," I drawled, too distracted by what he was doing to pay attention to my own words, "considering it's this naked man, I'm not really sure."

Capturing my chin in his hand, he turned my head to face him. His eyes blazed intensely, glaring at me as though I'd deeply offended him. As his eyes searched mine, I watched his pupils dilate until they nearly swallowed up his entire iris, leaving just the faintest ring of natural color rimmed around the solid black depths. He lifted his hand to delicately trace his thumb over my bottom lip. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. I could only guess what he'd been about to say, and it might've been my imagination only, but I swear his face held more longing in it than I ever would've thought possible for this man. Could that mean...that he's wanted this as much and as long as I have? That this wasn't just some last minute thing brought on by a cloud of alcohol and adrenaline? Jesus...the thought was more than I could handle. Thank god my higher brain functions had shut down three hours ago.

Tseng leaned his head down to capture my mouth in a heated kiss. His touch lingered over my back and found my ponytail, and he curled it through his fingers. Still locked in the kiss, he took my hair and tickled my neck and shoulders with the end. Then tugging it slightly, he reached up and slid the band tying it the ponytail at the base of my neck, running his hands through the length and fanning it out against my back. Then he broke the kiss and I sighed euphorically, feeling my eyelids droop.

Both of his extraordinarily capable hands covered my shoulders, kneading in between my shoulder blades and worrying the knots in my muscles until they relaxed. My head flopped forward bonelessly. Just as I was really getting into it, he pulled his hands away again, and I groaned in desperation.

"Oh, just relax," he scolded me lightly.

"I was just beginning to do that."

"I'm not done yet." Another moment and they were back, this time slick and warm as he glided his fingers deftly over my body. Where he'd gotten the massage oil from, I had no freaking clue. Pulled it out of thin air, for all I knew. But holy shit, I never knew hands could do that, and I realized I didn't care where he'd gotten it. This from a guy who's death grip on me earlier had me wondering if I would ever be able to use my favorite right arm again.

And speaking of which...

"How's your wrist feeling?"

Well, damn if I hadn't all but forgotten the thing was attached. I looked down at it like I was noticing it for the first time and picked it up to stare at it before my face. The bruise had now turned to a lovely color of eggplant and actually looked worse than it had before, but I've had enough bumps and bruises in my life to know that the coloring was bound to look worse than it felt before going away entirely. "Actually," I said, mildly surprised, "it still feels ok."

"Good," he purred into my ear, and gently laced oil-slicked fingers in-between mine. His other hand trailed down my back, rubbing small circles into muscle junctions on the way, then reached down to knead my ass. I felt him tease the sensitive area right above my crack for a moment, then steeling myself for what would come next, I squeeze his hand as I felt his finger trace between the crack of my behind, and then slowly, he pushed one long finger into me while my eyes did their best to pop out of their sockets.

I sucked in a deep breath and held it as I clenched every muscle in my body. He stopped for a moment and urged me to relax with a whisper of encouragement. Relax... Sure... Every time he's told me that tonight I'd done the exact opposite. I wondered if he'd be peeling me off the ceiling like a frightened cat by the end of the night. Eventually, I began to breath again, and slowly took his suggestion as I accepted his presence in my body. Gradually, I realized it wasn't even that big of a deal, and I eased my knuckle-white grip on his hand. Tseng withdrew his finger almost entirely, then carefully thrust into me again. I gasped once more, but softer that time, and realized I was actually beginning to adapt. I'd always been a quick learner.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm okay," I panted, "it's just...different."

"We can stop if you're uncomfortable," he suggested in a way that made it incredibly difficult to believe he really meant that. Either way, it didn't matter. I wasn't going to let him stop now.

"Tseng, you stop now, I will kill you." It was hardly a threat, but he chuckled at my attempt.

Taking that as a sign of encouragement, he continued to loosen me up a bit, working one, then two slick fingers deep into me. Sooner or later I got to the point where I was actually enjoying it...as long as I just shut my eyes and concentrated on the sensation instead of thinking about it or worrying about what was coming next, everything seemed to be just fine. When he removed his fingers from me, I exhaled a breath I didn't realized I'd been holding and collapsed back against his chest.

He caught me, wrapping his arms around me again and stroking back the hair pasted to my forehead. He shifted slightly to capture my mouth with his as he gently pushed me up onto my knees again in a silent instruction to hold my own weight. His mouth never left mine, and I felt his erection press into my back as my eyebrows knotted together anxiously. With a quick adjustment, he guided the slippery tip of his length against me and pushed in, forcing me to break the kiss, to catch my breath in one huge gulp of air. Screwing my eyes shut and clenching my teeth to keep from crying out, I felt his hands roam over my chest and settle on my stomach.

"Breathe," he calmly instructed.

Well, I was breathing, and like a champion prank caller, too, if you'd asked me. I was breathing so well, it was like I'd been doing it all my life. I was sucking in oxygen like a vacuum cleaner; gasping like a fish out of water. Breathing wasn't my problem, just then. In fact, I was surprised there was any air left in the room for him.

Then I felt his belly press firmly into my back then draw away as I felt him exhale against my neck. With his hand pressed against my stomach, he compressed and released as he drew in air and exhaled, and finally I got the picture: breathe with him. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the subtle movements of his hand against my stomach and the sound of his breath. It took me a while to synchronize with him, but once I'd settled into the wave-like rhythm, I felt myself relax.

He pushed deeper into me, slowly by degrees, and stopped momentarily when there was a catch in my throat. He patiently waited until I fell into the rhythm with him again, then inched into me farther.

"You feel so good," he sighed close to my ear. Unconsciously, I sighed with him, so caught up in the timing of our breathing, and then I realized he was fully sheathed inside me as he waited for me to get used to the feeling. Once again, I had to admire his self-control. I know I wouldn't have been this tolerant in his position.

Tseng started to move, the cadence of our coordinated breaths now commanding our bodies completely. I drove my hips to counter his movements, and as our breathing would increase, so would our pace...or was it the other way around? He grabbed my hips and thrust into me again, and pleasure coursed through me in a pang so pleasurable it almost hurt. I gasped again and softly cried out. He stopped and allowed me to catch my breath again, but I urged him on with a reflexive jolt of my hips.

His hand left my hip and trailed down to curl his fingers around my fully awakened erection. That in and of itself was almost a phenomena. Usually I'm good for once and then little Reno Jr. there is down for the count. But tonight was a night for a whole lotta firsts and I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the—

WHOA! The last train of thought left me when that pang returned. That and the grip he had on me as he stroked my length nearly sent me over the edge. Ok, Reno. Time to practice a little self-control. I thrust into his hand again as he thrust inside of me. Ah, Jesus… To hell with self-control. I was gonna need a little assistance here. I grabbed his wrist and stilled his hand; I was not going to last long at this rate.

He released his hand from around me and withdrew himself, grabbing my shoulder and gently pushing me down to the floor on my back. For the first time I was able to see him fully, his face and chest flushed and shined with perspiration, eyes shadowed with desire, lips parted slightly and quirking in an almost unnoticeable smile as his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. Our eyes locked for a moment and I made no attempt to hide the lust growing for him in mine. He dropped onto me and kissed me. Hard.

Shifting to accommodate each other, we fell back into the rhythm as I wrapped my arms around him and hung on. This Turk was in for one wild ride…

I groaned into his mouth as he bit my lower lip, his pace increasing as he pulled his mouth away to gasp and pushed his arms rigid to arch above me. I watched, fascinated, as Tseng shifted back to his knees, until his hand circled around my erection once again and literally yanked me out of my reverie as he plunged into me again and again.

Another few thrusts and finally he froze over me completely, tensing every muscle in his body as his eyes clamped shut. A sharp cry unlike anything I've ever heard from him before escaped his throat and I felt warm moisture flood inside of me. Tightening his hand around my erection, he gave one long, hard stroke as he thrust into me once for the last time, and I was gone with him as two concurrent twinges of the most blissful pain and pleasure I've ever felt wracked my body like an electric current. I came, molten liquid surging into his hand, and my consciousness took a dive as everything else around me faded to black.

The fat lady had sung.

And what a helluva performance it had been.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty." The playful amusement in the deep voice strained slightly the next time it spoke. "Reno...?"

A light slap on my face, followed by a harder one. Aw, c'mon, was that really necessary? What the hell'd I do this time?

"Reno. Wake up."

I was asleep? Funny, I didn't remember going to sleep... I tested that theory by slitting one eyelid and peeking through. Well looky there, my eyes had at least been closed. I felt like my muscles had been through the most hellacious workout of my life. Lifting my eyelids alone felt like I had pianos tied to the ends of them. Yup, sure felt like sleep to me. And now that I was awake again, I stared up into the blackest eyes I've ever known, lines of concern etched around the smooth almond shapes. "What..." I drowsily slurred. "Iz'za staff meeting over aw'ready?"

Tseng breathed a laugh and settled down next to me on the floor, one leg folded under him and the other bent at the knee as he rested his elbow on it. Still naked, he sat in the darkened light of the room raking his fingers through his hair. Was it just me or did he look relieved somehow? "Yes, Reno. Out 'staff meeting' is over."

I turned my head slowly toward him and arched an amused eyebrow, smirking wryly at his statement. There was a verbal joke there somewhere, but I didn't need to dignify it from the less-than-amused look carved on Tseng's face. "What happened?" I asked.

"You passed out," he said, unfolding once again and stretching out next to me on his side.

"I passed out?" I echoed, feeling a stupid grin plaster across my mouth. "No shit. That's never happened before."

He grazed his fingers lightly over my throat and traced my collarbone. "See that it doesn't again," he said softly. I turned to focus my eyes on his face again and noted the conflicting emotions of weary satisfaction and concern underscored in his features.

"How long was I out?"

He shrugged. "A couple of minutes."

"A couple of minutes?" All I could do was parrot his answers. My brain was still fuzzy and trying to process the whole experience. Though Tseng didn't seem to mind as he patiently curled up next to me, and I didn't mind in the least. I decided to try some new material this time. "That must've inflated your ego up like a balloon. Wow, Tseng. Who knew you were that good?"

My stab at trying to lighten the situation seemed to make it worse when I thought I detected a quick flash of anxiety flaring in his eyes before it shuttered behind a mask of control. Right then it occurred to me that Tseng had actually been...worried. Maybe not enough for any real alarms to ring off in that level head of his, but definitely enough to pull at a heart string or two he probably didn't even know he had. Tseng had actually been worried.

About me.

"Not hardly," he replied phlegmatically. "You were injured this evening, and drunk. Your body most likely just couldn't handle the exertion." He cupped his hand in back of my neck and bumped his forehead against mine apologetically. "I should have gone easier on you."

Was that…guilt? Ah jeeze, Tseng. No, don't regret it. Don't do this. Not on my account...

I reached up and weaved my fingers through his, determined to prove to him I was all right. "It was more than worth it," I whispered sincerely, and offered him a genuine smile. His own expression softened and he returned the smile affectionately before it darkened into a wolfish grin.

"Leave it to you to fall asleep just when things are getting interesting," he added wryly. "You should see all the exciting things you miss in our staff meetings."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Short of Scarlet giving a lap dance to Rufus Shinra while he's dressed in drag, I doubt I'm missing much."

He winced at the mental picture that seemed to conjure and shot me a look of disgust. "You'd actually want to see Scarlet do a lap dance?"

"Sure. I could use a good laugh just as much as anyone." I grinned over at him and then unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn.

He smiled warmly at me and kissed the back of my hand. "Well, Sleepy," he said, "while you were out cold I drew a bath."

"Planning to drown me?" I remarked.

"Yes," he commented without hesitation. "But since I don't have to get rid of any evidence now, would you care to just join me instead?"

Batting my eyelashes, I flashed him my most charmingly innocent smile. "Carry me?"

Tseng didn't buy it for a second. He shot me a reproachful look underneath dark lashes. "Nice try. Last time I checked, your legs weren't broken," he said flatly.

"Aw, you're no fun," I returned.

Tseng pushed himself up on all fours then raised up on his knees as he offered me a hand up. "You'd be surprised what limits you can push your body to when you really need to," he said as he pulled us both up to our feet. When I stood, I swooned slightly from a head rush and bumped against his shoulder for support. "Reno?" he said, unable to mask that concern in his tone as he gripped my arm to steady me.

"I'm ok, Tseng," I assured, regaining my balance. "Musta just left my brain in my other hat today. All that dust up their got kicked around when I got up too quick."

He pulled me close for a moment, and gently threaded his fingers through my messy hair. Searching me closely as I leaned into the soothing touch, he pulled my head closer and captured my mouth with his in a soft, meandering kiss when he seemed fairly satisfied that I wasn't going to collapse into a million pieces. Breaking the kiss reluctantly, he reached down and swatted me on my bare ass. "Move it," he ordered, and with a protective hand resting in the small of my back, he slowly guided me back through his apartment into the bathroom.

Candlelight flickered on the bare walls as I pushed the door open to the steamy room, and I stood in the threshold of the room with a dopey grin plastered to my face as I took it all in. The subtle smells of eucalyptus and vanilla filled my nose from the scented candles that lined the marble countertops around the vanity area by the sink and the edge of a large oval tub. Healthy green plants hung in various corners of the room. It wasn't a huge room by any means, but it was very clean and simple just like the rest of the apartment. I watched the steam swirl and dance above the water in the bathtub definitely big enough for two people, maybe three or four if you were all really, really good friends. Or midgets. "Aw, Tseng. No bubbles?"

He shut the door behind us and wrapped one arm around my waist. "No Reno," he said sweetly. "Just the big one between your shoulders." With a quick squeeze, he let go and grabbed my hand, leading me over to the tub as I fought to control the grin that bloomed up on my lips. I was enjoying his wry humor. Marveling at it like a century's old artifact I'd dug up. It was amazing me what a turn on it was.

Sitting on the edge, he tested the temperature of the water with his hand.

"Never figured you for a romantic, either," I purred, leaning over to sniff the scent from one of the lit candles on the edge.

"I don't have much opportunity to show it," he remarked. "I believe the 'must like long walks on the beach' was omitted from the job description before I was hired." Swinging one long leg over the edge, and then following it with the next, he lowered himself slowly into the tub as I watched the vapors rise from his skin. He cupped his hand and wet his arms and chest with the moisture, then dipped both hands in the water and brought them back up to smooth back his hair letting the ends hung loose in damp rivulets just above hardened nipples. I sucked in a breath and tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I'm sure the sweat breaking out on my forehead near my hairline had less to do with the steam in the room and more to do with the view that I was getting.

"Are you going to stand there and stare at me, or are you going to get in?"

"Stare," I answered absently, and proceeded to do just that.

He smiled modestly for a second and held out his hand to me. "Get in here and keep me warm." I took his hand and obeyed, climbing over the side of the tub and easing down into the water in front of him.

Oh...damn. That felt good. Squishy good. My brain, and any other vital part of me was officially on vacation. I leaned back against his chest and Tseng firmly wrapped his arms under my ribs and rested his chin on the top of my head. Keep him warm? Hell, I was approaching meltdown level, myself. Not that I minded.

Stirring slightly, I gradually rolled over on my side and moved my arm to circle around his back, pressing my cheek to his smooth chest. He tightened his grip around me in this new position and I felt more than heard him release a long, heartfelt sigh. "Not crushing anything important, am I?" I mumbled.

He laughed softly, a sound that resonated through my body like I'd stuck my head inside a cello. "Nothing I can't live without for a little while," he whispered. I wanted to steal a look up into his eyes. The forlorn tone in his voice told me I'd find something a little more than mere fatigue waiting for me there. But I settled for tightening my embrace around him and snuggled closer to his chest. I felt his hand move up to my hair again to tenderly tease the strands with a caressing touch. Little by little, the soothing motion of his hand lulled me into a wonderful state of comfort, the gentle rising and falling of his chest, the steady thrum of a heartbeat under my ear...it was all very hypnotic. My eyelids became heavy, and though I fought briefly to keep them open, eventually I lost the battle and they drifted shut.

"Reno?"

"Hmmm?" I intoned, through a semi-sleepy haze. I was just resting my eyes. Honest.

"Stay with me tonight," Tseng whispered.

That wasn't a request. And it woke me right up. Tseng want me to stay? Did he even know that leaving was the last thing on my mind? God, how was I supposed to even tell him that? Should be the easiest thing in the world, right? But I didn't trust myself not to say the wrong thing. Not to mention I could barely find it in myself to breathe right then. But Tseng needed me tonight and I had to do something to assure him.

Tseng needed me.

At that moment I became totally paralyzed, more frightened by that one thought than anything else all night. As crystal clear reality came crashing down around me, I fought an inner struggle not to outwardly shiver with fear. Good god, I couldn't believe it. This was not supposed to have happened. How did I let this happen?

I was falling in love.

Of all the dumbass stupid things. Talk about your eye opener. For someone who'd never been in love before, this was a pretty goddamn big revelation. I maintained my control lying as still as possible in his arms without trying to arouse his suspicion. Finally, I rolled my head over and casually planted a soft kiss on his chest right over his heart. "You betcha," I said, hoping he didn't hear the catch in my voice. I prayed it was enough to assure him. God knows if I said more right now, next thing I knew he'd be telling me to leave instead.

He seemed satisfied with my answer, and I heard his head drop back against the tile of the back wall and the slightest shudder ran through his body when he finally and completely relaxed. His arms loosened just slightly around me and I felt his breathing deepen and slow. Fast approaching sleep, he muttered two words that meant more to me that he could've ever known. "Thank you."

Sure. No problemo. Hey, it's the least that I could do...

For the one I love.

SIX

Sleeping is my favorite hobby. And do it really well. If it was a sport, I could sleep for my continent. I could invent a new sport: X-treme Sleeping. Object is to see who could sleep the longest under the worst possible conditions: edge of a 500 foot cliff wall, strapped to the back of a spooked chocobos, a nuclear explosion, Heidegger's staff meetings. Ok, so that last one isn't really all that much of a contest, but I'd take the gold in all of 'em anyway. I'd be Grand Sleep Champion Master of the Planet, and I'd be happy to challenge anyone who thinks they can beat me.

I've heard rumors that in some places there are people out there who are up at the crack of dawn, jogging in parks, making breakfast, seeing their kids off to school. Bright-eyed. Bushy tailed.

Assholes.

See, when I get up in the morning, the first thing that I like to do is take a nap. After that, I guess I'm a little tired so I need to lay down and rest for a while. And once that's over, it's been a long day so might as well turn in a little early. Yep, nothing beats sleeping. One of the few things left in the world that I take completely seriously. It has absolutely nothing to do with being lazy, neither. I'm just hardcore, baby. Takes a lot of discipline to be this good at something.

Which is why I was really sorry that I was gonna have to wake up long enough to kill the son-of-a-bitch who was trying to wake me up.

"Time to get up."

That voice... I knew it from somewhere. Must've heard it in a dream. Oh well... Where was I? Oh yeah.

Snore.

"Reno, this isn't funny, we don't have time for this."

Was something funny? Had I made a joke? Didn't think I had...

Next thing I knew, my comfy little cocoon of blankets somehow evaporated. Now that was just soooo not nice. Time to take some drastic measures. "Lemmee 'lone," I mumbled around a mouthful of pillow. There. If that wasn't threatening enough to make them stop, I didn't know what would. I curled over on my side in a fetal ball and pawed around for the closest thing that resembled warmth. I got…an arm? Somewhere in the foggy depths of my brain, I realized something should have registered with me there. But I was sleeping. And I was too comfy to care who it belonged to.

The arm yanked away. That voice again, hovered right over my ear. It was not a happy voice. "Reno...get up, now."

Oh, shit. I knew that voice now.

That caused my eyes to open, and everything flooded back to me at once. I looked over to see Tseng standing, fully dressed, minus his navy blazer that completed our uniforms, arms folded and looking totally unperturbed. And he was staring back at me as I lay there totally naked in the middle of his bed.

So it hadn't just been a dream after all.

A tiny twitch pulled at one corner of his mouth. It might even have been a smile. "Morning, sunshine."

I scowled and let out a heartfelt groan that tapered off into a whimper as I rubbed my face in the pillow. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't...

Last night, long after the bathwater had turned tepid and both of us were approaching the status of becoming the two biggest sentient raisins that ever lived, we grudgingly removed ourselves from the tub and dried off. On the way to the bedroom, I'd thwacked Tseng in the ass with my bath towel. He'd chased me into his bedroom and tackled me on top of his bed. That started things all over again. This time, I'd used my mouth for something other than talking, and for once he didn't object. He said he always knew there had to be another way to get me to shut up. Yeah, well, if he'd suggested it before, I might've shut up a lot sooner. But I was a quick learner—after all, I had one helluva teacher.

Satiated and spent, we curled up next to each other under the cool sheets and fell immediately to sleep, clinging to one another like a lifeline all night. There was nothing I wouldn't give to be able to be back there right now. But morning had come way too quickly.

And it just wasn't friggin' fair!

"Go 'way," I muttered, scooting my way over to him, despite what I'd just said.

"Reno, what are you doing? Besides being difficult?"

"C'mon, Tseng," I wheedled. "Come back to bed. It's much more fun in it than out of it. I got a few ideas." I tried flashing him a charming, if not somewhat sleepy smile, sinking into my pillow and feeling my eyelids pull down again. I thought I'd convinced him there a moment as he sat next to me on the bed and I felt his hands rest on my shoulders, and I lolled and sighed at his touch.

Then Tseng shook me like a tambourine.

Goddammit.

"Get up. Now," he growled. "You have twenty minutes to get ready."

"I only need five," I grinned, suggestively.

Tseng fixed me with and shadowed stare and squared his shoulders. "I have noticed," he hissed. "Perhaps if you took a little extra time to get yourself together, it wouldn't be so obvious." He turned on his heel and left the room.

Ouch. That stung. And in very shallow place that was extremely soft and vulnerable to me…my ego.

Oh well, up 'n at 'em. He'd gotten me that time, for sure. Not that I would let it happen again, mind you. He was fair game now to all my digs and jibes, no special treatment anymore.

I climbed out of bed and went over to the chair that Tseng must've brought my clothes from the other room and laid them out on. I arched an amused eyebrow at something that hadn't been in the ensemble before: a pair of black, silk boxers. I couldn't help but grin at that. Maybe he forgot I preferred to be au natural, or maybe he just figured that I'd never listened to my mother about always wearing clean underwear. Not that I had had a mother to listen to...but that's neither here nor there. If Tseng wanted to 'mother' me, so be it. Who was I to argue?

I got dressed, adjusting to the feel of the extra layer of clothing, and did the splash-the-water-over-the-face-and-in-the-hair thing. Few minutes later, I was looking as good as I ever do, if not a little weary. Hell, who was I kidding? I looked like I'd flat out been hit by a bus. A six-foot-one, 180-pound Asian bus named Tseng, to be exact. I smiled at myself in the mirror and walked out to the living room...

There are two things I had never expected to witness in my life. One of them is my own funeral, and barring any life-after-death superstitions or a really bad ruling on a half-assed autopsy, I still expect that one. The other was to see Tseng—strong, silent leader of a group of the most feared henchmen in the world—leaning against the counter of his kitchen, drinking tea from a rounded mug with a smiley face painted on it.

It was the funniest thing I'd ever seen him do.

I snickered unsophisticatedly before I could even stop myself, then choked back a laugh as the cheerful yellow face seemed to superimpose over his when he drank from it. Even Tseng couldn't make that look dignified. He shot me a dark look over the rim of the cup and tipped it down. "Would you like some tea?" he grumbled, obviously not finding anything at all funny.

I sobered immediately upon hearing his tone and shrugged, walking over to the counter. "Sure." I'm not a tea drinker in the least. I'm not a coffee drinker, either. In fact I stay away from most things that don't have a proof label or aren't glowing radioactive green with enough sugar and caffeine to power a small city. I have limited tastes, but since he was offering, might as well give it a shot.

Wasn't half bad, either. At least it gave my mouth something to do during the non-existent conversation. I leaned against the counter that divided us those few short paces and sipped the hot tea enduring the blanket of silence, and if I wasn't so damned tired I might've had a thought occur to me...

What if he really was regretting this?

Nope. No way. Call it denial, call it self-preservation. I was just gonna tuck that nasty little thought in a teeny little box marked 'airmail' and send it off to the other side of my brain. Not going there.

Finishing our tea, Tseng ushered me out the front door of his apartment, pausing a moment to grab my new electro-nightstick thingiemajigger. As he turned away from me to lock the front door, I reached out and rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder and felt him go completely rigid. "You ok?" I asked in all sincerity.

He hesitated a moment and shrugged off my hand without meeting my gaze and finally answered, "I'm fine," clipping off the end of his words as we walked in silence.

Oh, bullshit. I didn't need x-ray vision see through that. Something was definitely wrong. Then again...this was a rather awkward position we'd managed to put ourselves in. How often do you take home one of your employees to spend the night and drive them into work the next day? By my accounts, this was it—at least for us. Even more awkward was the fact that two guys had just emerged from the apartment together after a late night. Imagine if the Shin-Ra rumor mill got a hold of this one. And while I couldn't give a damn about my own reputation, I did care that Tseng had his to protect.

Tseng's car was still parked at the bar we'd been at the night before. Thankfully, it was actually still in once piece when we arrived back at it. The walk over had been almost painfully silent, and not once did Tseng look over at me to meet my gaze or anything. Not that I was expecting him to hold my hand the whole way, but geeze...

I may not always recognize the best time to shut my mouth, but this was one of those rare times when I did. I didn't say a single word on the way over. I tried to come up with the 'magic words', the one thing I could say that would ease the tension between us.

"If anyone asks, we'll just tell 'em I lost my keys," I said breezily as he started the ignition to his car. Simple enough lie, easy to remember. It would certainly explain why I had abandoned my car, and why I had needed a place to stay. I watched him out of the corner of my eye for a moment, his mouth tensed in a tight line and his jaw muscles worked as he gnashed his teeth. Then he nodded curtly and drove off without another word.

Note to self: Tseng is not a morning person.

SEVEN

The 8:00 AM whistle blew.

Metaphorically speaking, of course. Shin-Ra Tower doesn't really have an 8AM whistle, though I wouldn't really put it beyond them if they thought it'd earn them a buck or two extra in revenue. But there might as well have been one, loud and clear enough to hammer it into my head that the night was over and the day had begun, like it or not.

And believe me, I didn't.

I trudged alongside Tseng out of the parking garage and toward the elevators, walking like I was headed for my own execution. Well, maybe a little faster than that to keep up with those long legs of his. He'd parked next to my Impala, not bothering to ask me if I had wanted to check on it or not. I guess he'd just assumed that I'd want to see if anything was still left from it after leaving it parked there all night. Even though Shin-Ra Tower is located on the upper Plate, the area's not impervious to crime. If I'd left it parked on a Saturday night, I'd be lucky if the carjackers left behind a hubcap as a calling card. Midgar's known for having some really talented car thieves…can rip off any vehicle in under 60 seconds. And that's for any car with an anti-theft system installed. Almost brings a tear of pride to my eye.

But there it had sat just where I'd left it, in all its Powder Blue and only slightly rust-damaged glory. I suppose some cars aren't even worth the hunk of metal they're made out of, even for all the chop-shops in Midgar, who'd pick up a rusted out Pinto on blocks if they thought they could get a buck for the blocks.

Tseng had leaned up against his own car and waited while I'd tried the ignition on Wilma. Whispering a silent prayer, I'd hoped with all my heart and soul that the car actually wouldn't start. Maybe then I could coerce Tseng into giving me another ride home tonight. Invite him in, offer him a drink, just get him to talk to me again. Maybe we could… Yeah, well it wasn't by any stretch of the imagination difficult to picture what else I'd hoped could happen.

So much for that plan.

Unfortunately, the engine had revved right to life on only the first try, and that almost never happens without some sort of magic spell and planet alignment or something. Now I knew the world was conspiring against me, including my faithful loyal car that almost never works when I need it to. Except now. Thanks a lot, Wilma. I really owe ya one.

I swore an oath right then that the bitch was getting traded in next week.

As if my morning wasn't already completely for shit, the stainless steel elevator doors we waited in front of parted to reveal a lone figure hulking inside, probably the single largest bipedal creature to exist this side of the hemisphere in modern times, my proverbial partner in crime and personal hemorrhoid...

Stoic. Menacing. Motherfucking tall.

Rude.

Rude, what a name. His real name is Rudolph, poor bastard. I discovered that juicy little bit of trivia by sneaking a peek into his personnel file, and he threatened to tear out my spleen and have it mounted on a plaque for me to look at if I ever tried to call him that again. But once in a while when I'm feeling particularly suicidal, I can usually manage to work in a good reindeer pun or two right before I black out.

Rude is so colossal he had to grow an extra brain in his ass so that he'd feel pain if something fell on his foot. I once christened him the 'Navy Blue Eclipse,' complete with the ceremonial breakage of a champagne bottle right over that chrome domus hull of his. Said he saw stars for an hour. He'd made sure I'd seen them for a week. Still, I gotta admit it was worth it.

Can't help but love a guy like that.

He can also dish out more shit to me than I almost know what to do with. And while I can usually hold my own against him, I wasn't in the mood to take any of it this morning, and with my luck, that was almost a sure-fire guarantee that I was in for it.

Swallowing a groan, I stepped into the elevator after Tseng and turned around to face front as I watched the doors slide shut again. I slouched against the back wall of the elevator and Tseng stood rigidly to one side of me, hands clasped behind his back staring dead ahead. He was about as talkative as the dead, too. Maybe less than that if it was possible. Rude stood to my right, arms folded impassively over his chest, dark sunglasses perched high on the bridge of his long nose. He hadn't moved a muscle since we'd first seen him.

The elevator stirred to life and began to lift us upward, when I glanced over to Tseng who'd only made a slight movement to reach for the elevator panel and press a different floor than the one already lighted. Then I looked again over to Rude who still stood like a tree growing out of the center of the elevator, neither one still not having acknowledged anyone else's presence beyond the most basic of unconscious physical functions. I mean blinking was an option, here.

And this was just ridiculous. Just because we're assassins doesn't mean we can't be social, too.

"Jesus, don't everyone talk all at once. I can hardly think with all the noise."

The corner of Rude's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly in what might pass as a smirk for him. "You? Think? Don't hurt yourself, Reno."

I snorted wetly, concealing my relief that someone beside myself seemed to be at least half-willing to join the human race today. Just maybe I could annoy them into a conversation if I tried hard enough. "Yeah, good morning to you too."

But that was it. Rude didn't rise to the occasion to insult me, and Tseng didn't bat a single eyelash to anything. I wasn't worried about Rude. He'd catch up eventually and be giving me a run for my money any moment now. He might be big and not ever say much, but he's not dumb. Far from it actually, but I'd never admit that to his face. But dammit, Tseng. Did you remember anything at all? Were you hoping I'd just casually forget? Was last night just a fluke?

Reality check on isle four, please.

I felt my stomach drop like a safe, and it had nothing to do with the elevator bulleting up the shaft. Sighing loud enough that I could hear myself above the whine of the elevator motor, I dropped my head back against the wall and muttered absently, "What? Didn't anyone here get any sleep last night? I know I didn't."

That did it.

Turning deliberately to focus his narrowed gaze on me, the marble seemed to crack around Tseng's stone-faced façade to be replaced by a look that would make hugging a snowman naked enjoyable. He held me that way for a moment as I felt the blood drain from my head down to my feet, and my heart shrank to the size of a burnt, black little pea and squeezed the air right from my lungs.

Can you say 'oh shit?' I knew you could.

Lucky for me, the elevator chose that exact moment to stop, otherwise I might have pried the doors open with my bare hands and flung myself down the shaft. In fact, the thought was still occurring to me more and more as Tseng's dark eyes continued to glitter at me with furious contempt.

The doors opened and Tseng glided over to block the entrance with his foot. I barely noticed the movement. All I had really come to realize was that he was suddenly there in the entrance and that the doors weren't closing, and I was still being pinned like a moth to cardboard by that stare. Barely containing a sneer, his eyes slid over to Rude for a moment, cautious, then he stepped out and disappeared without ever actually saying a word. I sure as hell got the message, though. Loud and clear.

The elevator doors shut again and the car lurched upward. At least I think it did. I was too busy still cowering, wilting like a weed from the inside out from the latent image of two black eyes glaring me down to notice.

Jesus fuck. What had just happened?

"What the hell was all that about?"

"Huh?" The deep, gruff voice seemed to bring me around like a splash of cold water to the face, then I realized Rude was half-expecting me to answer him. I felt my cheeks flush instinctively as my mind stuttered around the various possible things he might've been able to decode from Tseng's...whatever you call what just happened. But I calmed myself and let it go. The absolute last thing Rude would suspect was that Tseng had fucked me last night and that I was just some naïve son-of-a-bitch who didn't know how to cope with the idea of being a one-night-screw. Realizing I had hesitated way too long, I finally let out a long sigh of resignation and thonked my head back against the wall. "Nothing," I said grimly. Definitely not one of my better performances.

Nothing. Riiiiiiiight. I only wish I was that good a liar. No big deal, hey, everything's just great from here. Nothing's wrong. Nothing happened last night, and now nothing's making absolutely perfect sense this morning. Not a goddamned thing.

Suddenly the cab jilted to a sudden stop nearly knocking me off my feet in the process. "What the—" I glanced around in a half-panic, looking for any sign as to why in the world we would've stopped, ignoring the obvious logic that if there was something wrong with the elevator itself, there'd probably, very unlikely, be no friggin' clue as to why from in here. But as I glanced over at Rude who stood motionless by the control panel, a deep scowl pressing his mouth in a thin line, I realized the emergency stop button had been switched on. I frowned back. "Rude, you asshole, what the hell'd you do that for?"

Unfazed and completely unamused, Rude glared at me over the rim of his dark shades. "Reno, you can bullshit a lot of people. You fucking excel at it. But you can't bullshit me. What's wrong?"

In Rude's own charming way, that was actually a compliment. And he was also right. But, best friend he might be, this isn't the kind of guy you go running to with tears in your eyes expecting a hug. "I told you. Nothing. Now start the elevator."

"You're lamenting."

"What?!" I didn't even know he knew that word. "I am not lamenting." Just for the record I don't lament. Lamenting is for pussies. I genuinely suffer.

"You are," he insisted.

"You don't wanna know," I answered curtly and took a step toward the control panel to thumb the switch myself. Rude moved to block it. Any further attempts on my behalf to move him would've been about as productive as relocating a mountain armed with nothing but a garden shovel and a little red wagon. The guy probably shits as big as me, for Christ's sake.

"What happened to your arm?" For Rude, that was about as concerned as he gets. Touching...

My wrist. Apparently the little treatment Tseng had given me the night before had actually worked, since I'd all but forgotten about it. But it hadn't taken away the giant bruise coloring my pale skin. In fact it looked like hell and was about the most disgusting thing I'd ever seen. To anyone else it probably seemed like a miracle the thing was still attached and hadn't rotted off my arm completely. Yuck.

Self-consciously, I pulled it back and tucked it underneath my other arm, folding them across my chest. How to explain this one? "Er, I uh..."

"Did he do that?" Rude demanded.

I blinked up at him in surprise. The problem with knowing someone so well is that the reverse is also true, and it was getting more and more difficult to hide all that I was trying to avoid telling Rude, and no way was I gonna admit anything I didn't have to. Shit, any more of this and he'd probably figure it out on his own. But hearing that your best friend and your boss slept together the night before was a little too much information to swallow at 8 AM.

Rude is about the straightest arrow in the quiver, so to speak, not that I've seen him display any sort of homophobic tendencies. There's even tons of opportunities to do that around this place if you are so inclined, The President's own son having been more than a little rumored to swing a little that way himself, but Rude never seemed to give a damn. Then again, President was our boss—our boss's boss. What are you gonna do, waltz up to him and call his son a fairy to his face? Not bloody likely. So you shut your mouth and pretend not to notice: don't ask, and sure as fuck, don't tell. I just didn't know how Rude would react to knowing such a thing about me, particularly when I'd practically just discovered all this for myself. But I couldn't have him going around suspicious and conjuring up his own stories for the rest of the day. Dammit, I was going to have to put on my game face and shove all my little personal traumas about Tseng aside for now. Right now Rude needed to hear the truth. He deserved the truth. So I was gonna give it to him straight.

Er...in a manner of speaking.

"Oh, hells no," I vehemently denied. "Jesus, no. You know Tseng would never lay a hand on us." Like that anyway. I did have a few bruises here and there in places a lot more inconspicuous than my wrist that Tseng had given me the night before, but those had been a lot more consensual, if I recall... Ok, down boy. Not going there right now. "I went out for a drink last night and when I left I got into a fight with two guys in the parking lot. I just happened to get the short end of the stick, heh..." That's it...just omit the 'we' from that story. I reached into my jacket and pulled out the electric telescoping rod, extended it and tossed it to him.

"Looks like you were the short end of the stick." He gave me one last glance-over and then looked at the rod. "What's this?"

"My new weapon of choice," I grinned. "Acquired it last night from one of my pals."

"Hmm." Rude studied the baton for a moment, then swiftly twirled it between his fingers before handing it back out to me. "Decent weight. But you should go to the infirmary and have them wrap your arm."

"Great idea," I agreed a little too enthusiastically, taking the baton back. "In fact, why don't you start the elevator and we can go there right now."

"What happened between you and Tseng?" He crossed his arms again stubbornly and waited.

Caught off-guard (though I clearly should've predicted Rude wouldn't be as easily distracted as that) I stammered to find something to say. There were just too many damn windows open to that statement and all that came out was some sort of choked response that sounded like I was trying to say something in Morse code. I stopped, sighed and rammed my fingers through my hair and glared back at him. "What makes you think anything happened?" Oh yeah, good one, Reno... Fucking brilliant, man.

He exhaled tiredly and if I could've seen his eyes, I knew they'd be rolling. Rude can be a very patient person…as long as you get to the point. "Because you're stalling. What'd you do this time to piss him off?"

"What makes you think I intentionally did anything?"

"Because you live to annoy the bejesus out of him—No, don't interrupt me, you know you do. It's this sick little game you play and I'm getting tired of it. You do everything in your power to get under his skin and then when he finally explodes at you, you sulk. I've worked for Tseng longer than you have, and I can tell you that he's never lost it, outright. You, on the other hand, bring him about as close to the edge as anything I've ever seen. That's not a good thing with Tseng, Reno. He's not there to be your friend or to sit around and shoot the shit with you. He's your boss. Nothing more. And you better knock it off, or you're gonna get canned one of these days…or worse."

Wow. It was perhaps the most he's ever said to me at one time. Not very eloquent, but extremely effective. I'd give it a 7.2 on the holy-shit-o-meter. Stunned into silence, I stood there for a moment and digested what Rude had said.

He's not there to be your friend… He's your boss. Nothing more.

And that summed it all up right there, didn't it? That's just what I am to Tseng. A lackey, a lap dog, another goddamned cocksucker. And yes, I'd done that last part very well, hadn't I? Fuck.

I snorted as casually as I could feign. "Yeah, Rude, whatever. Can we just go now? Not that I don't enjoy being locked up in an elevator all morning with a big, sexy hunk like you, I'm just not in the mood."

Rude frowned. "Prick," he muttered and flipped the switch, stirring the elevator to life again. [Translation: 'Hey, I'm just trying to watch your back, here.']

"Asshole," I muttered back. [Translation: 'Yeah, man, I know. Thanks for caring.']

The elevator slowed to a stop on some random floor, and Rude scooted over next to me to make room for the wave of people piling in and pushing us back into the corner. "You know, our little talk is far from over," he said out of the corner of his mouth to me. "You still didn't tell me a goddamn thing. How one person can talk as much as you do and say so little is nothing short of real talent."

When nearly everyone had stacked in, I replied in approximately the same tone, "Can it… Rudolph." Heads turned. Oh, did I say that too loud? Well…damn. My bad.

Slowly, dangerously, a low snarl began to work its way out of Rude's throat, but just as the elevator doors began to close, I spotted an opening through the masses and bolted through the crowd and outside the car, not caring who I was knocking over in the process. I turned around triumphantly and widely grinned back at Rude who proceeded to turn the color of a ripe tomato, and waved cheerfully to him as the elevator doors swished shut in front of me. "Buh-bye!" I chirped. The last thing I saw was Rude gnashing his teeth. He was pissed.

And it had been sooooo worth it. I hated to think what he might do to me once he finally caught up to me later, but I couldn't help but burst out laughing right there on whatever floor I'd landed myself on, despite the odd looks from passersby that I was collecting. It had been damn funny to see the look on his face. But my laughter abruptly halted and the grin fell off my face when I realized what a total fucking ass I'd been…not just this morning, not just last night…more like the past six months.

Six months my energy had been devoted to doing everything in my power to get Tseng to even blink once my direction without any success and now that I'd finally had it, that was supposed to be it? Screw that. Had it been worth it? Hell yeah. But I wanted more. Much, much more.

Rude is ninety-nine-point-nine-percent right most of the time. I will argue with him and debate him until I've run out of breath and vocabulary, which, for me, can be a very long time. There are still some arguments we've had that have gone on unresolved for months now, but that son of a bitch is almost always right. I hate him for it. Which is why I continue to argue with him, it's part of my stubbornness, I just can't let him win. But not this time. I don't care what I had to do to prove it, Rude had to be wrong just this once. There was a personality inside Tseng somewhere. I'd seen it. There had to be a way to get it out of him again…

I glanced down the polished marble corridor and, after determining what floor I was on, decided to go off in search of a smoke lounge, green soda and the infirmary, pretty much in that order. As I wandered off in search of my quests, my thoughts wandered back to Tseng and left me with a mushy feeling of angst and confusion. How could he have been so accepting last night and totally a different person by the morning? It wasn't an hour ago he'd been curled up next to me on his bed. And not 15 minutes had passed when he'd nearly killed me with that look.

What the fuck?

Was I ever going to figure him out?

What do I do when I see him again?

Where's the bathroom on this floor?

Apparently I didn't know a number of things. Whoever said 'ignorance is bliss' can blow me. One thing was for certain, though:

The more things change…the more they really seem to suck.

EIGHT

Far as I'm concerned, there is only one creation on the Planet that can prove the existence of Higher Power, and that is the donut. Whoever invented it must have had some kind of Divine Inspiration. Look at it…it's round, it's sweet, it's cake, but it's also fried. Is there anything more uniquely perfect? They have entire classification systems devoted to the donut: jelly-filled, éclairs, bear claws, glazed, fritters, beignets, sprinkled... Only a food so utterly diverse and yet so amazingly simple as the donut would have its own taxonomy.

Genus Donut.

Booya.

I was about to enjoy my own glazed strawberry jelly-filled version while sitting in the corner of the Shin-Ra commons, when an ominous, black shadow eclipsed all light from the room and left me feeling less than secure about my future. Swallowing nervously, I placed my Almighty Donut gently down on the napkin on top of the table in front of me and brushed the flecks of glazed icing from my fingertips. Not even my savory little Fat Pill was gonna save me now.

"Hello, Rude," I ground out.

Rude grunted once and pulled a chair up from a nearby table, turning it and straddling it backwards. Resting his elbows on the table and lacing his meaty fingers, he turned his head toward me as I met my reflection in the lenses of his glasses.

I sighed. "What's it gonna be, Rude," I asked defeated. "Ultimate wedgie? Indian Burn? Half Nelson? Or you got something stored up just for this occasion?"

He smirked and slowly removed his glasses, folding them deliberately and tucking them into his blazer pocket. He had me and he new it. And he was gonna drag it out all damn day if he could. Rude is that proverbial bully that would steal your lunch money from you everyday in school. Then he'd take your watch and maybe your shoes too if he thought they looked neat. What people don't know is that he'd take that stuff and give it to the poor kids he lived with on the street. A regular fuckin' Robin Hood that guy, without the tights, of course. And oh, what a charming thought.

Still, cuddly teddy bear he is not. In fact, with friends like Rude who needs enemas?

There's no way I could ever beat him in a physical contest. It'd be like Frankenstein vs. Mighty Mouse...after the mouse has been sitting on the couch for a few years collecting unemployment and drinking beer and eating chocolate chip cookies. Believe me, my gil ain't on the mouse for this match. But I can beg, plead, wheedle and whine like nobody's business, and I won't go down without a fight. I'll fight my own way, but I will fight.

"No, Reno…I'm letting you off the hook for that one," he said with a vague little half-smile that somehow didn't make me believe him. "Consider it your one and only free throw."

I narrowed my eyes and studied him for a moment. "What's the catch?"

"Meeting in ten. Tseng's office."

I played absently with the corner of the napkin having suddenly lost my appetite. "Ten, huh?"

Rude slowly nodded once, still studying me for a reaction. When I didn't say anything, he leaned toward me folding his arms over the table top. "Care to talk about it now?"

I thought about that for a moment. No...no I didn't. "You know, you could just choke me or something now and put me out of my misery." Rude shook his head for an answer. Smiling hopefully, I added, "I'll be your best friend?"

"Is that a threat?" he said dryly. "Why don't you just drop this nonsense and tell me why you're suddenly so afraid of Tseng."

Slumping back into my chair with an explosive sigh, I dug my fingers into my eyes and rubbed them until I saw stars. "I'm not afraid of him," I sighed. That was the truth. I wasn't afraid of Tseng in the least. I was afraid of how I felt for him. Now that...that was scary as shit.

"Then, what?" he prodded.

"We had a..." A what? A torrid affair? A meaningful union of two souls? A good fuck? Yeah, I could see Rude's face if I said any of that. "...a...a misunderstanding," I finally decided on, which was true enough from a certain point of view, and ambiguous enough to hopefully get Rude the hell off my back.

Rude didn't seem the slightest bit phased. Not even an eyebrow twitch. Great. Oh, I know this was just Rude's way of making sure I was okay. Hell, despite how much I make fun of him, most days I actually consider myself lucky to have him as a friend. He's no saint, but he's the only real friend I've got. Granted, in our line of work we don't get many opportunities to make friends, so the pickin's are fairly slim. But maybe it's a little more than that. Somehow I think we both need this friendship to remind us that we are still human beings after all. Well...Iknowat least I did.

Which was a whole 'nother reason to keep everything to myself. God knows I'd done my fair share of chasing people away in my lifetime, so much so that I could now count all of my friends on one finger. And there he sat. I was not going to mess this up. Or if I was, it wasn't going to be because of this. Not to mention, I depend on Rude for a whole lot more than just his spectacular company. Imagine if he hesitated for just one second longer than he should have because he'd thought a little less of me now... Not a warm thought. In fact, it's a very cold, cold thought that just so happens to come from about six feet under the ground. I'm only 25 and I still haven't had a chance to write a decent epitaph. So far all I've managed to come up with is, "Here lies Reno: Jerk, Turk and Outta Work." Not exactly what I want sitting on my head for all eternity. There's a lot more things to live for than errant hormones...not sure what they are right now, but give me a day or so, I'm sure I'll think of something.

"So talk to him," Rude suggested, simply.

"You were the one telling me earlier not to try and talk to Tseng," I complained, exasperated. "Would you make up my friggin' mind?"

"No, what I said is that he's not small talk material. But if you have a problem with him, one that could affect your job, then you better damn well talk to him."

"You make it sound like that's the easiest thing in the world."

"Tseng is not completely unreasonable," he shrugged.

"Yeah, well he's not completely reasonable, either," I remarked.

Rude smirked in return. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

I leaned forward and thumped my elbow on the table top, dropping my chin in my hand. "Gee. Thanks. Now, if you'd kindly get the fuck lost, I'd like to finish my donut in silence."

He stared at the pastry for a moment with one eyebrow quirked in amusement. "You're really gonna eat that thing?" he asked in slight disbelief.

It was as if I was about to break some sacred rule, the way he'd asked. I knew he doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, but shit, everyone loves donuts! Leave it Rude to be difficult that way. It probably had more to due with the fact that no one was exactly sure the pastry case in the commissary ever really changed from day to day. God only knows how old these things are. But today, I really needed some kind of simple comfort, even if it is in the form of some four-month old fried dough.

I felt the corner of my mouth curl in a sadistic little sneer and shiftily slid my gaze over to him. "No, Rude," I replied, dryly. "I bought it because I was lonely and I wanted the company." He snorted disdainfully, but I wasn't about to let him off that easily. Rude, of all people, should have known that better than anyone. Now for that little extra Reno-slightly-over-the-cliff shove... "You know, the way the light sorta shines off the glaze reminds me of the top of your head. Maybe I'll even name it Rude Junior." I tried a wider grin on for size and found that it didn't even feel too bad. Besides, it was for a good cause.

Rude wasn't the slightest bit impressed. He seemed to seriously consider this for a moment before calmly shooting out his fist and pounding my donut flat. The jelly that had been inside the donut suddenly erupted all over my shirt, and I jumped up out of my chair with a shriek and dove for a pile of napkins. By the time I turned to give Rude one serious ass-chewing for ruining my shirt and my breakfast, I saw him across the other side of the commons briskly heading for the exit.

"Son of a—," I ground out between clenched teeth. I knew there was no way I was going to be able to get that stain off my shirt before I was due up in Tseng's office in less than five minutes, and I'd rather willingly eat one of the Science Lab's specimens than be late to his office. All I needed now was another reason for Tseng to hate me.

Grabbing more napkins, I busily continued to worry the stain from my shirt, denying to myself the whole time that I was only making it worse. Finally, I gave up. Glancing at the clock and then back to my forlorn and flattened little donut, I scraped the compressed cake up in preparation to throw it away. I barely deliberated a second before I concluded that the damn thing would taste the same whether it was round or shaped like an elephant's ass, and I nearly choked on it when I shoved as much of it as I could in my mouth before heading to the exit.

Some comfort. It's only a donut, not a therapist.

It tasted like shit.

NINE

Wouldn't it figure with my luck that I'd be late anyway? One of the elevators was in the process of being serviced and the others were excruciatingly slow, so I found myself sprinting up the stairs two at a time at the last minute, wheezing and gasping like an emphysema patient running a marathon. When I reached Tseng's office, he was standing outside, arms crossed impatiently and looking like a polar ice cap in a suit. He followed that up by a traditional Your-Ass-Is-Mine glare, which by now you'd think I'd be getting pretty used to, but it still managed to turn my stomach in to knots—probably now more than it ever had. I told myself I wasn't gonna make excuses. I was gonna be a man and just take it like one, whatever the consequences, but when I glanced past him to see Rude sitting calmly and comfortably inside and waiting for me to show up, I fumed. I felt my face burn and knew it must be at least twice the shade of my hair.

"What's on your shirt?"

"It was his fault," I muttered, pointing to Rude with my chin as I self-consciously buttoned up my jacket.

Tseng's mouth flattened in a mutinous line. "Get in here," he growled, and briskly turned to walk into his office.

I followed him in on his heels trying my best to look as humble and apologetic as I could—not that he was noticing—and had barely settled into the chair next to Rude before Tseng began briefing us. Not that Tseng is ever one to waste time with small talk. Good thing, since I'm not sure I could've strung a coherent thought into a sentence without looking like a total ass now, anyway.

"Either of you know what a handful of rare, black-market materia goes for these days?" he began, resting his hip on the corner of his desk and folding his arms casually in his lap as he waited for an answer.

I stole a quick glance over to Rude who seemed happy enough letting me take the bait. I shrugged back up at Tseng. "Couple million gil?" I tried.

Tseng calmly reached behind him and pulled up a nondescript black briefcase, laid it out on the desktop and flipped it open to reveal more cash than I've ever laid eyes on in my entire life. "Six point four million gil, to be exact," he replied matter-of-factly. Neither Rude nor I batted an eyelash.

Tseng shut the case once again and pushed it aside. "This briefcase is to be delivered today in Sector Seven where a quiet little negotiation in the back of a materia shop will exchange this case for another filled with some of the rarest materia ever produced." He stopped and regarded us calmly and said nothing further.

"...That's it?" I asked suspiciously. "Just a simple under-the-table deal?"

"Yep," Tseng nodded once.

"No bullying anyone, no clever switch-a-roo, no elaborate heist?" I wasn't buying it.

"No," Tseng concluded. "Just a simple and easy transaction; I don't anticipate any problems. Shinra wants the materia and he's willing to pay for it. He just doesn't want to be the one to get his hands dirty, so naturally it gets handed to us. Now...there might be a little cause for concern about the dealer. He's a little...slippery, you might say."

"Slippery?" I echoed doubtfully. I knew there was a catch. There's always a catch.

Tseng paused to take a breath, and that small smirk curling faintly at edge of his mouth. "They call him the Salamander."

I scoffed out loud. "Jesus Christ," I griped. "I just wish for once we could deal with someone who goes by their real name. That's it. I'm changing my name to 'Cactuar.'"

Tseng gave a little half-smile of appreciation and went on. "Apparently, no one knows his real name, but he has a history of trying to con his previous customers. If he knows Shinra's backing this, he'll try to pull out completely."

It sounded easy. Which usually means it isn't. "So what do we do?"

"You and Rude will be keeping a watch on the entrance to the shop, just as added protection. We wouldn't want Mr. Salamander to walk out with both cases by accident." Tseng straightened his spine and tugged at his shirt cuff, sliding fluidly off the edge of his desk and grabbing the handle to the briefcase.

"So then...where are you going?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

Tseng grinned darkly and straightened his tie, and I swear if I didn't already think I was already balancing on a pencil-thin line with him, I'd have decked him for his next comment:

"I am off to see the Lizard."

"Peanut?"

"I don't like it. Not one fuckin' bit."

Rude snorted. "See if I ever offer you anything again."

"Not that, you ass," I snapped, "this job. I don't like it. Tseng's in there by himself without a wire or a gun, and we're sitting out here like a couple of idiots with our thumbs up our asses. I don't like it."

"Then you shouldn't sit on your hand."

I scowled and shot him a dark glare which he predictably ignored as he cracked a peanut shell open with his teeth and popped the contents into his mouth. "You saw them frisk him at the door," he said in mid-chew. "What was he supposed to do?"

"Exactly," I said, turning in the passenger seat to face him better. "You don't just walk into any fucking materia shop and automatically get patted down. What if this Salamander asshole tries to pull something? And I'm not talking a con. I mean something bigger—a gun. This ain't even his shop, he'd have no problem messing up the place. And Tseng's not exactly the lowest-profile character on the planet, you know. He could be recognized."

"And so if he is," Rude reasoned, "then this Salamander guy will just pull out. Tseng's not gonna try anything alone in there, he'll let him go. And if the Salamander tries any cons, that's what we're here for, to make sure he doesn't get too far."

"I dunno, man. I smell a rat."

"That's just your breath."

Cracking my window open, I lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out in one, long hiss. "You're not worried at all?"

"You know, Reno, some days you still act like a goddamned rookie. Not every job is includes an assassination attempt or a conspiracy plot. Sometimes a deal is just a deal. Now you want a fuckin' peanut, or not?"

"No, I don't want a peanut," I groused, waving his hand away irritably. I sank lower into the cushiony sedan seat and listened to him crack a few shells with his teeth for a moment. "What are you eating those things for anyway?"

"I'm hungry," he replied laconically.

"I want a taco," I announced. "You should buy me a taco when we're through here. You owe me after fucking up my shirt."

Rolling his eyes behind his glasses, he sighed. "Fine. I'll buy you a taco when we're done. Now could you just shut up for ten whole minutes? You're giving me a headache."

Should have been me. I didn't say it out loud, but as I sat there frowning and feeling generally pissy about the whole upcoming mission, I couldn't help but think that it should have been me putting my ass out on the line in there, not Tseng. Tseng had been with the Turks for...well, I wasn't really sure, but I knew it had been long enough for him to have established himself as a rather prominent figurehead. Body-guarding for Old Man Shin-Ra sure hadn't kept him very anonymous. Knowing that Tseng personally didn't even buy into any of this materia bullshit made me even angrier that he was willing to risk his neck for it. If I thought I could have argued with him about it without getting my ass kicked into my throat, I would have. Instead, I was sitting in the company-owned sedan listening to my partner crack peanut shells with his teeth. I felt about as useful as Rude's shampoo.

Just as I finished off my cigarette and flicked the butt out the window, a slick little sports car pulled around the corner and parallel parked across the street from the materia shop Tseng had gone in to about a half-hour before. Nice car. Kind of reminded me of Tseng's car, in fact, except this one was dark green and had a dent in the hood. I fixed my eyes to the car and knew Rude was doing the same. "You suppose that's him?" I asked.

"Car like that in a 'hood like this? Prob'ly."

"He's late."

We watched as both driver and passenger-side doors winged open on the car and I eagerly anticipated catching a glimpse of this notorious 'Salamander.' I had the incongruent idea of seeing a man with 'beady eyes,' a 'blunt nose' and a 'sharp tongue' and nearly snickered out loud at the thought. What I did finally see was not some roly-poly looking freak, but instead a solidly built younger man, fairly tall (though not quite as tall as Rude), dressed in a cheap polyester suit and sporting an average 10-gil haircut. He had a buddy with him: a rat-faced, nervous-looking kid with crooked teeth and beaky nose. I wondered briefly if he'd ever actually been able to see his own reflection at any point in his life, or if his image had simply shattered every mirror he tried to glimpse into.

The little guy looked oddly familiar in a way I couldn't put my finger on. I say little, but he wasn't much smaller than me, really. The bigger guy looked kind of familiar too, but it was the smaller one that carried the briefcase. I frowned as my Bad Feeling suddenly upgraded to 'This Is Not Good.' "Do you recognize either of 'em?"

"Nope."

"Shit. I could swear I've seen them before..."

The two exchanged words for a moment as they stood in front of the car, the smaller one's eyes darting around nervously, his head jerking around with the movement of his eyes. He turned his head just enough to the side and it allowed me to see another unusual feature: he had a band-aid covering his left ear. Weird place to cut yourself shaving, dude...

The tall guy casually twirled a brass key ring around his finger for a moment as they continued to talk, and for some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off that key chain. It was gaudy and glinted slightly in the catchlights and I found it tacky as hell, but beyond that, the shape of it was completely mesmerizing. Hey, it was shiny. What did you expect from me?

Three big block letters. B-V-something, maybe. No...an S and maaaayyyybe a P... Salamander. Sal...a...mander. S-A-L? Sal?

SAL!

"Oh shit!" I cursed, rocketing forward in the seat and nearly launching myself out the windshield as I grabbed the binoculars on the dashboard and jammed them to my eyes. Upon a closer look, I realized I was looking at the same two guys Tseng and I had grappled with in the parking lot the night before. My 'This Is Not Good' feeling skipped right over my 'Oh-No' feeling and went straight to my 'Can I Have Some New Underwear, Please' feeling.

The communication between my brain and mouth suddenly shut down and I began to babble excitedly to Rude as the two men began to walk across the street. "Damnit! Guys...fight...Sal...Tseng!" I went on for a moment throwing up random words and sentences that made no sense, and Rude was trying to calm me down as best he could.

"Fight? What fight? Reno, what it is? You recognize those two? Where do you know them? What's this have to do with Tseng? Reno, for Christ's sake CALM DOWN!"

I fumbled for my handgun resting against the small of my back and loaded the first bullet in the chamber. "This is bad; real, real bad. Tseng and I ran into those two guys last night and fucked them up pretty good—"

"You and Tseng? I thought you said you got in that fight alone—"

"—one look at Tseng and they're gonna recognize him right off, maybe not as a Turk, but definitely not someone they're gonna wanna do business with—"

"Reno—"

"—gonna kill him as soon as they see him; Tseng has no idea!"

"Reno, tell me what is going on, RIGHT NOW," Rude demanded, gripping my arm firmly.

I stopped long enough to try and string a thought together, and all I could think of was that I had to get out of that car as soon as possible. "Rude...?" I said so calmly, I even surprised myself. "Let. Me. Go."

It couldn't have been more than three seconds that he hesitated, but those three seconds seemed to last infinitely as time distorted and blurred everything around us. I felt my heart pound in my chest and sweat stand out on my brow as I watched the gap between the Sal and his buddy and the shop's front door close within the space of a few feet.

Whatever Rude had heard in my voice, whether it had been anger, sheer panic, or just the complete lack of anything else, it must've finally sunk in. "Let's go." I would have kissed him full on the mouth right there for those two words if I thought I had the time.

"You're the Salamander..."

It was Tseng's remarkably controlled voice on the other side of the shop door, and I'm guessing it hadn't taken long for Sal to recognize Tseng at all. It's not every day you get a nine-millimeter shoved up your nose, and it's not likely you'd forget the person who did it real quick, either.

"Let's go, Sal, let's just get outta here."

The squirrelly guy. Butch, if I recall. The thought of their names still made me want to laugh at them, but then I'm supposing 'Reno' and 'Rude' aren't the most normal names to wander upon every day either. Butch sounded nervous, in any case. Perhaps he'd developed a sudden overnight fear of being randomly jumped on and bitten, who could tell?

"No way," said a third voice, the slow, heavy baritone and thick city accent obviously belonging to Sal, himself. "That car cost me eight-five grand. It's gonna cost me another two grand t'get the hood replaced. Plus, this motherfucker's little drinkin' friend bit you, which is just plain ornery. You think I'm gonna let him go now after all that, you're as crazy as he is. Grab his case."

I covered one side of the door and kept my ear pressed to it as Rude motioned for me to stay put. For the moment I had to agree with his decision, much as I wanted to get in there. So far Tseng sounded like his was still in one piece though, and I rather would've liked to keep him that way.

I heard a break in the conversation and then a soft whistle of appreciation following the sound of the locks on the briefcase clicking open. "It all in there?"

"Well, I dunno Sal, I'm not really gonna sit down and take the time to count it all out, but it's a briefcase full of a lotta fuckin' money and that's good enough for me."

"No need to be a smartass, Butch."

"Yeah, well don't be a dumbass, Sal. We got the money and the materia now, let's just get outta here."

Sal seemed to debate this over for some time, as I didn't hear anything at all for a moment or two. At least I hoped he was just debating and I hadn't missed something else. But the door was made of the cheapest building material just shy of cardboard and there wasn't a lot I couldn't hear through it. In fact, the entire building structure of the slums is about as sturdy as wet paper towel. One big sneeze and it'd take out half the block. Sometime later I'd have to remember to take a moment and thank someone for that, assuming, you know...we got out of this alive.

"He's right Sal..." Tseng again. I was relieved to hear his voice, but his tone was low, calm and dangerous. It gave me a familiar chill, and at that moment, I didn't envy Sal one bit. "You can walk out of here with both the money and the materia. I'm unarmed. You've won Sal. There's nothing I can do— right now—to stop you."

"I didn't ask you to start talkin'."

"But...once you walk through that door, I can't promise anything. I'm not a person who likes to loose, Sal. And for both my own interest and in the interest of my employer, it would be best if I walked out of here with at least one of those cases."

"Your employer? You with Shin-Ra?"

"Who I work for is irrelevant. Point of the matter is we had a deal, a deal that you're about to break, and I don't like being cheated. Now...I would rather you come back in here, sit down and let's negotiate this like honest crooks. I'll even throw in a little extra for all your troubles. Or, you leave right now...and I won't make any promises."

How anyone completely unarmed and without a single card to play had big enough balls to threaten someone else when the odds were against them was nothing short of amazing. Or stupid! I gnashed my molars together angrily wanting to walk in there, push right past anyone else in the way, take Tseng by the shoulders and shake him until his neck snapped. But I also know you don't get to be head Turk by always playing it safe.

"He's bluffin'." Butch didn't sound very confident. Again, complete silence followed and dragged on. I glanced over at Rude again and gave him an impatient eyeroll, and he motioned once again with his hand for me to be still. In reality I knew Tseng probably had way more control of the situation than I had cause for concern, but that didn't mean I enjoyed standing there enduring the sensation of sweat trickle down my spine, feeling as though every muscle in my body could rip through my skin at any moment if the slightest thing provoked me.

"You're right."

Sal had apparently made up his mind. Now maybe he'd let us in on the decision.

"Let's go..."

Ah, good choice, Sal. Maybe not for you, but at least I'd be getting a much-needed work out. All this standing around was making me antsy.

Rude and I made eye contact once again verifying we were each on our mark. Pressing up farther against the outside wall, the door swung open inward, and I stepped around the corner to come nearly nose-to-nose with Butch. Shoving the barrel of my gun against his Adam's apple, his eyeballs seemed to want to spring from their sockets. I gave him a wide, toothy grin and the most personal greeting I could think of:

"Woof."

TEN

"YOU!" Butch screwed up his little rat face so tight I thought he was going to sprout whiskers and a tail.

"Hey, Butch. Nice t'see ya again," I greeted through a melting grin. I pushed him back into the shop where he stumbled over his own feet and bumped right into his pal, the Salamander. I stole a quick glace around the small, dusty shop and immediately spotted Tseng in the center of the room, perched on the edge of a small wooden table. He slowly crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow, obviously more amused to see us than relieved.

Well, you're welcome, I felt like saying, and a brief catch of his gaze followed by that self-righteous little smirk creeping up on his face meant he understood damn good and well what I thought.

"How's the ear, Butch?" I said, getting back on topic. "Oh, by the way, this here's my associate, Rude. Be polite and say 'hello', Rude." He had stepped around me during my little silent exchange with Tseng and placed his gun to Sal's temple. Rude acknowledged everyone with a surly little grunt.

"Careful," Tseng informed, rising from his spot to briskly cross the floor over to where the rest of us were gathered. "He has a gun." Standing behind Sal, Tseng brushed aside the larger man's blazer and pulled a revolver from the Salamander's hip. Tseng popped open the bullet chamber and turned it over to empty the ammunition into his hand. "Hello...what's this?" Tseng turned the revolver over to look more closely at the weapon's grip, noticing three extra materia marbles imbedded into the metal. Curious, I turned my head away to get a better look for myself.

That was my first mistake.

Mesmerized by another shiny little object, I didn't notice Rat-Face swing the briefcase he was holding out in a giant arc to knock my own gun free from my grip. Stunned, it took another half second before the real pain kicked in when I realized he'd just smacked me hard on my injured wrist. That cool little trick Tseng had performed the night before completely undid itself in one deft blow, and pain shot up my arm like a bolt of lightning. Before I could even react to that, though, I found myself with a mouth full leather as he swiftly shoved the case to my face and mashed it into my nose.

Close by, I could hear the sounds of more shouts and struggle and hazily concluded that Sal had taken this opportunity to create some commotion of his own. I was preoccupied with trying to shake the stars out of my eyes to make out anything clearly, then I felt the bones in my arm grind into the floor, and I yelled in agony while Butch did a great job of crushing it with his knee. After a couple of small audible cracks and pops, I knew he'd actually broken it.

"That's for biting me, you son-of-a-bitch," he growled close to my ear.

Vaguely I wondered where Rude had gone off to and why his big, giant foot wasn't kicking this guy in the head for me, and then I heard him boom, "Let go of him!" from across the room, and knew that I was on my own for the time being. A surge of anxiety hit me like a cold wave from the raw anger I heard ripped from Rude's throat; one thought immediately fled to mind: Tseng. Tseng, who had yet to make a single sound...

"And this is for stealing my favorite weapon," Butch snarled again, shaking me out of my reverie. Or rather punching me out of it. His knuckles contacted solidly with my cheekbone, whipping my head to the side.

That was pretty much when I decided it had been one helluva rotten day.

That was also when I decided to gather my senses and stop letting this guy use me as his personal punching bag. I had friends who could do this for me, I didn't need this punk. And speaking of "weapon..." I'd forgotten all about that. That must be what was poking me in the ribs this whole time...

Reaching promptly into the inside of my blazer, I curled my hand around the grip of the weapon and withdrew it, shaking out the telescoping rod and thumbing on the switch with a vibrating hum. Following in another fluid-like motion, I aimed the rod at my attacker's throat, and jabbed it right against his jugular, just in time to see his eyes bulge in absolute surprise.

And then I snapped.

Driving him back, I pinned him against the wall and held him there, savagely relishing the look of pure, intense horror straining his features. Unable to make any other sound other than a choking gurgle, his lips peeled back in a repulsive grimace and veins began popping out in his forehead and neck. When the skin around where the electro-rod was making contact began to blacken and bubble, that's when I let go, and he slid down the wall in a sickening thud hitting the floor like a sack of wet potatoes.

No time to celebrate, though. Spinning quickly around, I was just in time to see the Salamander fling Tseng away from him like a rag doll and land on the small table he'd been sitting on before, showering the floor with wooden splinters flying in all directions. Rude leapt into the air and dove straight for Sal, and I had just put one foot in front of the other to do the very same when I saw Sal's large hand curl around an object and point it at Rude—the revolver!

At that moment it didn't occur to me how they could've gotten the gun reloaded in the amount of time I had been laid out on the floor, and I just froze. I squeezed my eyes shut and helplessly waited for the sound of a gunshot to catch my best friend in mid-air.

But the gun didn't fire. Instead, Sal strafed out of the way just as Rude landed, and I heard him say what I thought were the words, "Earthquake," as he started running toward the front door, scooping up one briefcase on the way and making a beeline for Butch and the other case.

I turned behind me once again to head him off, but didn't get very far before I felt like my knees were suddenly going to buckle in a way knees aren't designed to bend. Then my legs began to tremble involuntarily and my spine felt like it was being used as a jackhammer. All of these odd sensations happened within the space of milliseconds; when I felt my teeth begin to chatter, I realized it was coming from the ground, not me. I can't say that I was any more relieved to discover that than thinking my own body was literally falling to pieces, but at least it gave me a little perspective. At that moment, however, perspective needed to take a flying leap. What I needed was a goddamned handrail.

The quake itself didn't last that long. Twenty seconds, thirty at most. But when you feel as though you've been stuffed in a blender and set to 'puree,' twenty seconds can be a surprisingly long time. One Renotini, shaken and stirred: coming right up.

I wound up getting knocked right off my feet again and tried to land in a position that hopefully wouldn't do any more damage to my wrist than was already done. I was only half-way successful in my efforts, as the ground had continued to shake for a few more seconds once I'd landed on it. Chunks of plaster flaked off the walls and ceiling, adding to the dust and debris already being tossed around, and the foundation of the very floor seemed to be splitting open right under me.

Finally, when I was just on the verge of having nearly everything I'd ever eaten for the last twenty-five years rattled out of me, it stopped. For a heartbeat or three, I just laid there, dazed and unsure if it was really over, mentally willing my stomach to stop somersaulting. Slowly, I sat up and looked around, shaking the fine, powdery dust from my hair. The eerie silence that followed in stark in contrast to the rumbling freight train-like commotion that had preceded it left a distinct humming in my ears.

A hand shot up in from a pile of wooden pieces in the middle of the floor, and I breathed a sigh of relief to see that Tseng was moving. Thankfully, Rude was also starting to collect himself. The Salamander, Butch—or what had been left of him—and the two briefcases were nowhere in sight.

A sudden, sharp pop over my head caught my immediate attention, and I looked up to see the ceiling bowed impossibly in on itself like a canopy. Wire-thin fissures were branching suddenly everywhere and running off into small tributaries along the structure. Oh shit. Rude was ok. His position left him near the perimeter of the room, similar to myself, but Tseng was right underneath the bulk of the bulge. Shitshitshitshitshit.

"TSENG!"

The popping and cracking overhead sounded as if firecrackers were being set off one by one and bigger chunks of plaster randomly rained down around us. I catapulted up and dove into the air, tackling Tseng in a rush that would've made a pro football player proud, knocking him free as the ceiling finally caved in on itself. I landed hard on top of him, out of the way for the worst of the damage, but not enough to completely avoid the collapse. I hugged his head while the brunt of the debris pelted my back. Tseng wheezed close to my ear attempting to catch his breath.

At last, the dust seemed to settle, so to speak, and I shook my head and coughed up a lungful of dirt.

I had thrown Tseng down into a rather...compromising position. I hadn't intended to do that, but I didn't particularly mind it at the moment, either. But only a very small percentage of that, surprisingly, was my dick talking. I was mostly concerned. Tseng still hadn't said a single word since discovering the extra materia and the revolver, and I would've gladly taken an insult or derogatory comment just to know he was okay. "Wow..." I said hoarsely, and peered down at Tseng's face below me. "Did the earth move for you, too?"

"Get...off...me."

Fine. Fine. I'd asked for that.

I pushed myself up onto my knees and instantly regretted it—having forgotten about my wrist again, I set my hand down on the floor for leverage. I winced and cradled my arm near my body, and just knew that if it hurt this bad now, once all this adrenaline in my system finally leveled off, I was really going to be in a world of pain. Fortunately, I still had the ACE bandage wound tightly around it, and I definitely wasn't in a hurry to get it off now.

I heard Rude get up and pick his way over to where Tseng and I sat. Looming over me, I looked up behind me to see him, thankfully, in one piece, if not a little worse for the wear. Above him, a huge hole in the ceiling gaped open like a giant mouth ready to eat him up. Heh...you could really see the Plate from here... All of us were covered in fine dust that practically turned our navy suits white. Amazingly, Rude's sunglasses still sat on the bridge of his nose, albeit a little crooked. He bent over me slightly and held his hand out to Tseng. Tseng halted his preening for a moment and looked inquiringly up at Rude.

"The Salamander and the cases are gone," Rude said flatly. He dropped a green colored marble in Tseng's hand. "He left that behind."

Tseng looked down at his hand. "Cure," he said, devoid of any expression whatsoever. "We just paid six-and-a-half million gil for one Cure materia." Closing his fist tightly around it, he let out an aggravated sigh and shut his eyes for a moment in a sort of meditative rage. I knew there was not a whole lot either Rude or I could say at this point, so we waited in silence. When he opened his eyes again, his attention fell on me for a brief moment as he glanced over me. I attempted to give him a sympathetic smile. In the space of one heartbeat, his expression changed from tired and irritated to a sharp glare directed at me. "You're hurt."

I shrugged it off, though I wasn't about to say everything fine. My wrist hurt like a motherfucker and I knew I wasn't going to be able to hide that from him, anyway.

Tseng glanced from my wrist to the little green marble in his hand, and I saw the conflict of concern and skepticism etched in fine lines on his face, hesitating between his better judgment and his belief. Saving him the anxiety of making the decision, I closed his fingers around the materia again and pushed his hand away. "Don't bother," I said, with a weary smile. "It's broken. It'll need to be set, anyway."

He frowned at me for a moment, then nodded once without any arguments before getting up to leave. It might've been my imagination, but I think he even looked a little relieved...

As soon as we got back to the Tower, Tseng and Rude steered me right into the campus infirmary, and for once in my life, I didn't complain. I'm no fan of hospitals or anything even resembling one, but I was too tired and too beat up now to care where I was being taken.

The medic on duty was a foxy little thing with sharp eyes and a quick wit. Seems someone over in personnel finally figured out that if the infirmary was going to be housing a bunch of whiney, ungrateful patients, they'd better hire the staff that could handle them. She'd patched me up a few times in the past as well and we'd always managed to have a good laugh and a flirt or two. Well...usually it was me flirting and her laughing. Guess I'd been in there a little too many times than I really cared to remember. Turks are a never-ending supply of cuts and aches and injuries that keep the on-board medics quite busy.

Today I wasn't in the mood for any of it. I'd rather she didn't say anything to me and just do her job, but I'm never that lucky. As she poked and prodded at my arm and hummed and hawed at the bruises—now much bigger and uglier than they had been the night before—I couldn't help but wonder what she thought I'd done to myself. Not that she didn't try to ask...I just avoided giving her an answer.

She gave me a reproachful look. "I'll need to set it," she said flatly.

"I know," I answered with the same kind of enthusiasm I reserve for doing laundry.

"It'll hurt." She grinned at me like this was some kind of bonus treatment.

I narrowed my eyes at her and gave her a warning look. "I'm tough, I can take it," I assured.

She smiled, mocking green eyes twinkling bright. "I just thought maybe you'd like to invite one of your buddies over there to hold your hand or something."

That pushed an extra sensitive button deep inside me, and I stole a quick side glance out of the corner of my eye at my two "buddies." Rude and Tseng were both loitering in adjacent sides of the room, arms folded and silently watching on. "We're only allowed to hold hands off company time," I sneered back at her, and felt more than saw Tseng's gaze try to cut me in half. I swallowed nervously as the medic grabbed my arm in preparation to set the bone, but my anxiety had nothing to do with what she was doing.

"I'd like to see you in my office as soon as you're through here," Tseng ordered, the pitch of his voice knocking the temperature down in the room at least 10 degrees. He opened the door and shot me a quick, but hostile glance over his shoulder before stepping out.

Shit. I'd have rather had the medic break every single bone in my body than go up there and face him.

"Sounds like someone's in hot water," said the medic standing before me, eyeing me warily as she braced my arm.

I sighed and looked away, waiting for the pain and instead feeling completely numb from head to toe. Some reason her comment made me think of the night before, sleeping in the bath with Tseng, his arms wrapped tightly around me. Shit, it hadn't even been twenty-four hours yet. It already felt like a distant memory. A dream, at that. Darkly, with no trace of humor in my tone whatsoever, I muttered, "Wouldn't be the first time."

ELEVEN

"...suspended for one week, without pay, starting tomorrow."

"WHAT!?" I demanded, sitting bolt upright, and nearly launching myself right out of my chair. It was all I could do to keep from diving across that mahogany desk and throttling that son-of-a-bitch, broken arm or not.

"You heard me," he stated firmly.

"What the hell for?"

Tseng narrowed his eyes spitefully and recited the charge to me without even bothering to look down at the file. "On the grounds that you jeopardized your associates' and your own life by acting without just cause—"

I opened my mouth to object, but he rode over me, his tone rising.

"—and, you caused an entire mission to fail because you could not take control of your personal emotions," he finished, emphasizing every word with icy clarity. Jaw set, he stared at me evenly, as if daring me to respond.

I felt sick. And pissed off, and confused, and numb and a million other things I don't think they'd invented words for yet. Take control of my emotions. Well, pardon me for giving a damn.

I could remember the knot I felt in my stomach the moment I recognized the Salamander walking into the Materia shop like it was all in slow motion replay, still all so fresh in my memory. And the horrible images that flashed into my mind of a bloody reunion if Tseng was identified painted pictures for me in gruesome detail. All I had thought of was getting Tseng the hell out of that shop. Whatever it took. And he was right—I hadn't considered my own safety...or even Rude's, for that matter. Now here I sat with my arm in a cast to show for it and a briefcase full of missing money walking somewhere around Midgar.

Luckily, Rude had kept me right in check, though, always the one to keep his head on straight. And since we got back, I'd been trying to rationalize everything that happened—that fight with Sal and his buddy probably would've started anywhere, whether it had been in that shop or three blocks away from in an alley we chased them in to. Rationalizing only went so far, though. Someone had to take the blame.

But we had gotten out alive as a team, and, silly me, I thought that's what teams did, stick together and cover each other's asses. And for the life of me I couldn't see how anything there was worth risking Tseng's own life. Six-and-a-half million gil that wasn't even his, and a handful of Materia he didn't believe in...neither of those add up to one of our lives, in my opinion.

But my opinion didn't mean jack, apparently. Not to Shin-Ra, and not even to Tseng. I guess could see his point, but...shit. Since when was suicide a part of the job description?

Once again, I went to respond, and once again Tseng cut right me off before I even finished taking a breath. "Anything you say regarding this matter will go on the official report," he further challenged. He'd known what I was going to say before I even said it. And there went my entire argument right up in a puff of smoke. Shin-Ra had no room for a "righteous" Turk. And it's pretty sad when my morals outweigh an entire company's.

"If you have nothing to add, then you're dismissed to leave the premises."

Oh, I had plenty to add, but what the hell could I say? He was right...even if he wasn't right, he was right. My title didn't give me the luxury of asserting my opinions. I couldn't argue, much as I might've wanted to. And even if I did want to debate the issue, I couldn't muster enough energy right now to make the effort.

"I said you're dismissed."

Yeah, yeah...I'd heard him. I'd heard a lot of things in the last twenty-four hours. All of it, apparently, bullshit. Last night he wanted me to stay, now he wanted me to leave. At least I wasn't confused any longer on where I stood with Tseng. I guess I really don't mean anything more to him than my suit and gun. Just goes to show you even a practiced con like me can be fooled once in a while.

Rising slowly from my chair, I felt aches and pains in places I didn't know existed. One particularly nasty bruise right on the small of my back caused me to wince a little as I was painfully reminded on how I'd received that one: sticking my neck out for him. And without so much as a simple thank you... Fine. Say what you wanted about "unjust causes" and "unnecessary risks," Tseng would be wearing a ceiling right now if it weren't for me.

Stopping with my hand on the doorknob, I felt my blood pressure pop up like a thermometer in a pot roast. I slammed the door shut in front of me and wheeled around to face him. "As a matter of fact, I do have something to say," I snapped. Tseng looked up calmly from his desk and blinked mechanically at me as if I'd simply asked him the time. Goddamn him and his indifference! It was just the push I needed...

"Okay, so maybe I didn't take time to think everything through when I charged in there, but what you did was completely stupid." It was on now, and I knew that if I didn't keep going, I wouldn't be able to finish—Tseng would surely kill me first. I was treading dangerous waters here. But if I was going down, I was gonna say something about it first.

"You walked right into an unknown situation unarmed and wide open, and even if that Salamander bastard hadn't turned out to be someone who recognized you, it was still a bad call on your part. Anyone at all could have recognized you; in case you didn't notice, Shin-Ra is not exactly the United fucking Way. Plenty of people would love to have your head on a pike if they knew who you were. You are just as much to blame for losing that Materia today as I am and you know it.

"So let's cut this bullshit and talk about the real issue here." I lowered my voice and eyed him with a contemptuous glare. "From day one, all you've done is tell me what a goddamn failure I am: Everything I do is wrong. Everything I don't do is wrong. There's just no winning with you, is there? Well, I've let you yell at me, I've let you push me around, and now I've let you fuck me, too, and it's still not good enough for you. What the hell do you want from me, Tseng? What did I do to make you hate me, anyway?"

The words hung in the air like smoke from a gun. Tseng had sat frozen in his spot, glaring at me as I'd exploded at him. Now silence filled the room and his dark gaze wandered from me and settled to focus on a distant spot on the floor. There was just no reading him. It was like I'd just yelled at a brick wall.

And now that I was done with my outburst, I just wanted to vanish. He sat so still, I wasn't even sure he was going to react, and the longer I stood there, the more I didn't want him to. I wanted to leave, but I just couldn't force my feet to move. I thought if I could just sneak out, I might forget the whole thing happened. Or maybe I wouldn't forget, but I could just keep walking and never turn back. Either way, though, I'd be gone, which is apparently what Tseng wanted anyway.

He was still and silent for a long moment. Just when I thought I might get my feet to move for me, he finally spoke. "Feel better?" Calm, collected, cold. Just like always. I was beginning to think I'd dreamt last night.

I shifted uncomfortably where I stood and sighed. "No."

I know he was looking at me, but I turned away from his gaze. I just couldn't look him in the eye. I was still too angry, too humiliated. Leaving me there to squirm a moment, I heard him sigh deeply. He spoke again, and I was positive he was gonna tell me to get out, but I got quite another surprise. "Reno, do you honestly think after last night that I hate you?"

I was stunned. It was like I'd been hit in the chest with a wrecking ball. I almost wanted to ask him to repeat it, just to be sure I heard him right. I mean, it wasn't like he'd ran to me and swept me up in his arms to carry me out of this stinking building, but shit...at least he acknowledged it. I opened and shut my mouth a few times without saying anything, trying to form a cohesive thought into a sentence, and finally exhaled in frustration. "Tseng, I..." I broke off, feeling my knees weaken, my resolve slip. "I don't know what to think."

Tseng lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He seemed at a complete loss for what to do, and was visibly trying to collect his thoughts. I had no idea how long he was gonna make me stand there, and I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to as it wasn't just my knees beginning to weaken anymore. I felt sorta like...well, like a building had collapsed on me today. But finally, he shook off his little funk and gestured to the seat I'd just been invited to leave. I walked over and sat back down the gunmetal gray office chair. It was amazingly comfortable...compared to a solid concrete bench. But right now, any support to my aches and pains was a comfort...not counting the one in my heart.

He squarely met my gaze, but now instead of the cold, sterile formality that I was so used to, his gaze seemed to direct that inward—softer, but haunted and aged, and I honestly can't say I liked this one better. The glow from the artificial lights outside cast long, sickly shadows on his face, and he looked like a young man with old eyes. Eyes that have seen too much and aged too soon. My heart ached to watch him. Damn him! I still had feelings for him even after all this. Just wrap me in cellophane and call me "sucker."

"Reno..." His tone had softened as well, though not nearly as much as I would've liked it to. Still, there was just the faintest trace of the man I'd been with last night in there, and I was willing to take what I got. "I don't hate you. I've never hated you." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, and then shut it again as he seemed to re-gather his thoughts once more. There was something unspoken there, and even though I didn't know what, I knew when he spoke again, I wasn't gonna like it. "As for last night...I...made a mistake."

There it was: the five-hundred pound shoe I'd been waiting to drop, and it landed right on me. If he'd've stabbed me in the chest, it probably would've hurt less. "A what?" Of all the things he could've said, this was the one thing I did not want to hear. And the one thing I'd most expected. Those words terrified me. Maybe I was in complete denial, but I just couldn't believe that. There had been something there. I refused to believe last night was a mistake. But if I wasn't careful, I'd be walking out of here with a week's suspension, a broken arm, and my last chance on this godforsaken excuse of a planet to tell the one person I've wanted more than anyone in my whole life what he means to me.

My hands were shaking and I was surprised my voice wasn't as well when I said, "Tseng... You're the first man I..." I couldn't even finish that much.

A look of pained guilt crossed his face. It was the first real emotion I'd seen, and I wanted to make him twist there...just a little. "I honestly didn't know that last night."

"Would that have made any difference if you had?" I snapped.

Tseng's gaze lowered. "Maybe."

"Well, it doesn't make any difference now," I fumed. "You owe me an explanation, goddammit. I deserve that much from you." I was back where I'd started when I'd walked in here, ready to dive across his desk again to beat the answer out of him if I had to.

He looked at me levelly again. "You're right. I do. But...I'm afraid it isn't a very good one."

I didn't say anything. I just sighed impatiently and gave no indication that I was going to leave until I heard something. Hell, I didn't even care what his reason was now; I just wanted him to talk to me, to acknowledge last night—to acknowledge me.

He slumped a little bit in his chair again, folded his hands in his lap, and stared down at them, hesitating. "Today's my birthday," he said out of the blue, announcing it like he'd just told me he had terminal cancer.

Admittedly, I was a little caught off-guard by that. I blinked. "You're shittin' me." He shook his head gravely in response. "Wow...I wish I'd known. I would've gotten you something."

A small, knowing smirk slid over his face. "You gave me plenty last night, Reno."

For a second I didn't have anything to say, and I could feel my face burn. "Oh yeah... Well. Happy birthday."

"Care to guess how old I am?" he asked, his voice an even monotone.

"Oh, no, don't make me do that. I don't want another week's suspension." I've learned there's just no way to win with this answer. You guess too young, people think you're bullshitting them, too old, and they get mad. Friendships have ended and wars have started for less than this.

Tseng looked at me a moment and gave me a small, humorless smile. "Oh no, please. Take your best guess. I won't penalize you."

Thing of it was, I had no freaking clue how old Tseng was. I knew he was older than me, but who knew how old. He could've been forty, for all I know. He looks twenty. He puts on like he's been alive forever, though. "Hell, I dunno," I grumbled. "Nine-hundred."

He stared at me a moment and blinked mechanically. "Nine-hundred?"

"Yeah, sure," I shrugged, giving him a sly little grin. "At least that's how old you act."

Tseng's eyebrows arched imperiously. "Oh, do I? Well, when nine-hundred years old you reach, look as good you will not."

I snorted inelegantly and rolled my eyes. "Tseng, I ain't gonna look that good next year. So c'mon, birthday boy, fess up."

He just stared wearily at me for a moment. "I'm thirty-four."

His answer didn't faze me a bit. If he'd of said anything over about thirty-eight I would've thought different. But at the moment, he just looked downright antique, so I had to give him shit. I'm a card-carrying jackass. It's in my contract. "Wow," I said widening my eyes in mock surprise. "You don't look it."

Tseng tipped his head in slight gratitude toward me.

"I mean, damn," I went on. "I knew you were older than me, but I didn't know you were that old. That's like, almost ten years' difference."

Tseng crossed his arms and leaned over his desk to rest his elbows on it with a nice little 'thunk.' He glared impatiently at me, and flattened his mouth in a thin line. I was really fighting hard here not to break a grin. "What's your secret?" I pressed him, leaning in conspiratorially.

"I get it," he ground out. "You're not impressed."

I rolled my eyes. "Why should I be? I mean, just because you grew up listening to the Beatles—"

"I did not grow up listening to the Beatles—" He turned his head away, I think to try and hide the fact that he was almost smiling.

"—and radio shows because you didn't have television—"

"Reno, shut up."

"Oh, Tseng, get over it," I rode over him, dropping the shtick immediately. "So you're thirty-four, big deal. You have the stamina of a thoroughbred and you look younger than I do. Why do people in their thirties always sound like they have one foot in the grave?"

He glared irritably at me. "Because people in their twenties push us there."

I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn't have a comeback. He'd called my bluff with a pretty good punchline. I couldn't help chuckle a little at that.

But Tseng continued to stare at me for a moment without any trace or hint of a smile anywhere, and the longer he did so, the more I felt my own grin slip away. He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly, plunking his head in his hand. "It's not how old I am, it's the fact that I've been with Shin-Ra for fifteen years now, and the idea of putting in another fifteen isn't exactly exciting me at the moment."

Now, that did surprise me a little. Fifteen years with Shin-Ra...that was almost half his life. I can't imagine being anywhere that long, let alone being a Turk that long.

"I came here when I was nineteen, and I threw myself into this job. It's the only thing I've known since leaving Wutai..." Absently, he brushed the mark on his forehead with his fingertips. When I gave him a questioning look, he just shook his head and said, "Another story for another time." I can't say I wasn't curious as hell, but I certainly wasn't going to push it.

"I wasn't even old enough to drink yet," he went on. "I thought I could forget...my past...if I just worked hard. And for a while, I did. I had other things to occupy me. As soon as I was issued my first gun, there was always something else I wanted. I wanted the nice car and nice apartment. A wanted a promotion. I wanted a corner office with my name on the door, the key to the Executive's Men's room, for crying out loud... There was always something... And I got them all. I was also a little surprised that it took a lot less time than I imagined it would.

"And after fifteen years," Tseng gritted out tensely, that trademark glacial control just beginning to chip away, "this is still all...I...have."

He closed his eyes a moment and took in a deep breath, and his mouth compressed into a thin, bitter line. I was completely transfixed on him. Somewhere it occurred to me that this was probably the first time he'd told anyone any of this. The first time anyone actually tried to listen. And it was probably the first time Tseng had really forced himself to think about it. I sure as hell try not to think about my past. Or future, for that matter.

"And then suddenly today everything changes because of one good fuck," he growled, closing his eyes in frustration and dropping his head back on his hand.

I felt my skin flush hot then cold in a matter of milliseconds. Hearing him say that was bad enough. Hearing him say it so crudely was even worse, especially for Tseng, the guy who practically farts concertos. He'd said it like...like it had barely even been worth his time. "So that's what last night was..." I bristled. Well, fine. If that was how he felt, then I would walk out of here on my own. I moved to stand.

"No, Reno, it wasn't. That's the problem."

I sat back again. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He stared at the floor a moment, then took a huge breath as if to steel himself, turned to me and said, "I wanted to feel something. I wanted to feel alive. I've been...attracted to you for a while, I guess, and I was fairly certain you were attracted to me. You seemed willing, and I...took advantage of that..." He trailed off, shaking his head remorsefully.

"I thought that if just get this out of my system, I would blow off some frustration and finally get over this. But I didn't realize the impact last night would have." He paused a moment, sighed heavily and looked back up at me. "Well, I definitely felt something. More than I expected, and certainly more than I'd planned for. You reminded me what I've been missing. And it wasn't the sex, though I'm not complaining," he amended quickly. "I just...missed being close to someone. Someone I like. Someone I...trust."

Well. Color my ass humbled. I was pretty sure all my vital signs had stopped. I wasn't breathing, I wasn't blinking, and I'm pretty sure my heart had stopped, too. Tseng had just said a mouthful and it was taking my entire brain to process it, even the parts I don't use for thinking. I really didn't know what to say. He'd just used a lot of really big words I was still trying to find meaning for. Words like "feelings" and "attraction" and, by far the biggest one, "trust." Tseng trusts me. So there was someone in cold hard shell, after all. I knew it. I'd heard it in his voice last night when he'd asked me to stay, and I was seeing it now. He was letting me in. Because he goddammit trusted me.

Okay, well no need to go skipping ahead of myself here. Lucy still had a lot of 'splainin' to do.

"I really hadn't planned on letting you staying over last night—"

"Planned?" I butt in before I could stop myself. Apparently my mouth was still working okay, but it really has a mind of its own most of the time. "I thought you said you'd made a mistake." See what I mean?

Tseng smirked a little sheepishly. "No, Reno. Not last night. Mistakes aren't planned...that's why they're called mistakes. What was, was my reaction to it all. I just...didn't want to let you go." He breathed a soft laugh. "This morning, I was confused and angry with myself. I was feeling things that I haven't for a long time. You were an easy target, so I took it out on you." He smiled tightly and added: "I lashed out because... Because I couldn't 'control my personal emotions.'"

Whoa. Whoa. Either I had just walked into some kind of alternate universe, or Tseng had his hit head in that earthquake harder than I'd thought. He'd planned that? Holy cow. Just leave it to him to make it all seem as spontaneous as it had. Well...the Salamander was surely unexpected. Not even Tseng was that crazy. But beside that, I'd somehow volunteered myself for Tseng's fantasy and not even known it. Wow... I had been Tseng's fantasy. Me. Holy shit and donuts.

Okay, okay. My turn, here. He was brooding again, and I was afraid I was gonna lose him to his own thoughts. "Jesus, Tseng. You're not a robot."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Not for lack of trying. It would certainly make things easier. My job, for one."

"Oh, everyone hates their job."

"Yes, but it is my job to hate!" he suddenly exploded, and I jumped back just a little. He clenched his fist into a ball until his knuckles turned white. Forcing himself to take a few deep breaths, he shut his eyes for a moment before going on. When he spoke again his tone returned to the tight self-discipline I was uncomfortably familiar with. "Don't you understand? I must maintain control. Otherwise, I get distracted and something like today happens. Look at you—you're a mess. You foolishly risked your own neck to protect me. You could be dead now for something as ridiculous as a bad heist job."

"So could you," I coolly reminded him.

"One dead Turk is better than two. Which is why it's important for us to remain detached. You can't let your feelings affect you. Otherwise this job will begin to affect you. It takes a special kind of bastard to pull a trigger in someone's face."

"Hey, I'm one of those bastards," I cut in.

"Yes, I know that, and I'm not questioning your innocence, nor your skill. I'm questioning your ability to remain objective on the job. If this continues, how effective do you think you'll be?"

"Maybe you should be questioning your own ability as well," I volleyed.

There was a significant pause as he fixed a hard glare at me. "Yes," he admitted tightly. "Both of us. This is not something to take lightly, Reno."

"You didn't plan for of that last night," I muttered quietly in what I hoped was to myself, but Tseng heard me loud and clear. He sighed and fell into a morose silence.

My chance to tell him anything was slipping away. I was coming across as angry and bitter, and, while I can't say I wasn't at least a little of those, I wanted to make him understand how really felt about him. I played the last ten minutes of conversation over in my head and realized something strange: Tseng was actually opening up more here than I was. I felt plenty of things...but how was he to know that if I didn't tell him? Tseng's perceptive, but he ain't a goddamn mind-reader. Jesus, if only I could trust my own mouth not to fuck me over.

Thing is, I knew exactly what he was thinking, and he was right. This wasn't something to take lightly. Being a Turk isn't something to take lightly. I might roll my eyes and seem like all his constant reminders of safety, and "do this," and "don't do that," and "I've told you befores" go through one ear and out the other, but I hear him. What if I had to choose between his life or the President's? What if he had to order me to do something he knew would kill me? Decisions like that are hard enough to make on your comrades, let alone a lover. Things could get complicated. Hell, things were already complicated. I had no answers.

But I wasn't about to give up, either.

All right, time to cut the inner monologue. I was damn close to losing my job and him for all the wrong reasons. I'd been born with the ability to bluff my way out of almost anything. Time to put my money where my mouth was.

"Tseng, we all make mistakes," I said firmly. "Big ones. In my case, legendary," I said touching one of the two scars on my face. He looked at me and his expression softened a little in sympathy, as if noticing them for the first time. Or maybe he was just relating... "But I'm human. And I'm not going to deny that or apologize for the fact that I have feelings. I'm not going to push them aside and pretend they don't exist. And excuse me for not thinking that makes me weak.

"If you regret any of this," I said lowly, "just say it now. I'll walk out of here and never say anything about it again. I'll do my job by the book to the fucking letter. I'll be your goddamn robot, if that's what you want. But I want you to know before I do..." I stopped a second in the middle of my thought and went over everything Tseng had said again in my head. Christ, leave it to me to over think everything. But it all added up to one thing, and I think I smiled when I figured it out.

"Yes?" Tseng said, evenly. I looked back up and realized he was eyeing me patiently and waiting for my response.

"That I care about you too, you son-of-a-bitch." It was a lot to assume. But I knew—I fucking knew—I was right.

Tseng's expression did not change a fraction—I was terrified he actually would call my bluff and send me on my way, and then I'd be right back at square one. I was gonna have to stick my foot in the door wherever opportunity would knock. I just hoped like hell I could hear it.

He folded his hands calmly in his lap and sat back in his chair, still staring at me pompously. "I'm not sure I like your tone of voice. Is that any way to talk to your commanding officer?"

I lowered my gaze and shook my head slightly. "No," I said, as sincere as I could. "But I wasn't talking to my commanding officer. I was talking to my lover." I returned my gaze to him again and held it squarely, hopefully. And then I saw it...just barely, but it had definitely been there. The slightest mouth twitch. And then he swallowed. Most people wouldn't have even noticed. But to a practiced con like me, I knew he was bluffing.

"You assume a lot," he said, his gaze darkening. "I haven't agreed to anything."

I felt my grin slowly spread across my face. "You will," I purred. "Or maybe you just need to take a week off to think about it."

Tseng shook his head tightly and set his jaw. "Reno, you are the most arrogant, obnoxious, exasperating, insubordinate, careless ..." and on and on he scolded without even stopping for breath. I felt my grin widen even more and knew this verbal ranting was the final notch in the belt. Suddenly he pinned me with another gaze that made my blood run hot.

"...And I'll be damned if I know why I want you so much."

Bingo.

I couldn't get a better invitation if it was handwritten. I slid out of my chair and stepped around behind his desk to stand next to him. He blinked up at me for a moment, and then I sank to my knees in front of his chair trading vantage points with him as I searched his eyes. And suddenly there he was—the man behind the mask, out of his shell and exposed. I could see every emotion laid out for me there like a map: anxiety, desire, affection, fear. It echoed everything I was already feeling, but it was so good to know I wasn't alone.

"This isn't going to be easy," he said.

"Hey," I said breezily, "I'm not asking for much. Just your total devotion and affection. Oh, and great sex." I gave him my most charming, lopsided grin.

"One of those is a lot easier than the other two."

I swallowed hard. Wasn't that the truth? Up until last night, it was the idea of the sex that worried me. Now I realized that was the easy part. "I know... I'm right there with ya. I'm scared as hell." I looked away and stared at the floor uneasily.

"If you're so afraid, why pursue it, then?" His voice was still low and serious, but had taken on a slightly gentler tone. I looked back up into his eyes and saw the genuine concern there.

"I'm just crazy like that, I guess," I shrugged. "And...some things are just worth the risk." I felt ridiculous and awkward as hell doing it, but I reached out and touched his knee. It was time to bring down this wall between us, or I was gonna jump out of my skin from being so tense. And I really wanted to emphasize my point: Tseng was worth it. Completely. Totally. Hey, I don't kneel at just anyone's goddamn feet.

I let my hand fall back to my side, and knelt there at his feet feeling a little foolish and nervous, just hoping he'd do something to respond. For a moment I really thought he would just turn back in his chair and begin working on paperwork again, with a "We'll talk about this further once you've returned" dismissal. But then I felt the softest hand brush over my cheek, just to lightly graze over the scar there before continuing down my jaw. I felt a shudder run through me completely, and I closed my eyes and held my breath, hoping to whatever deity was listening that I wasn't dreaming.

"Then I hope I don't disappoint you."

I sighed deeply, and nearly cried in relief at the feel of his warm touch on my face. I reached across with my free arm and covered his hand with mine. On impulse, I pulled his hand away just slightly, and breathed on the inside of his wrist. I heard a sudden soft intake of breath when I brushed my lips over his pulse point, and then touched the same spot just lightly with my tongue.

I felt his breath on my face before his lips covered mine. Relief flooded through me like a tidal wave, and I felt my body lighten and release what felt like a year's worth of tension as I melted against him, savoring everything I could about him. It wasn't even a half hour ago that I was sure I meant nothing to him at all, and now I knew the truth. It was exciting. And it was terrifying. But in the moment I tried not to think about it, just that I wanted all of him, afraid that if I let go he might not ever come back again. I knew I should be patient, let him set the pace and command the control, but he tasted and felt so damn good, I couldn't help but lean into him and urge him to deepen our kiss. His tongue touched mine and I moaned into his mouth, as I pulled myself closer to him and wove my fingers through his hair.

"Reno..." he panted against my skin, nipping at my bottom lip while I gasped for air. Just hearing him say my name seemed to strike a spark within me and I shuddered at the sound of it. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Well, it was a little late to turn back now, wasn't it? Other parts of my body would certainly agree. But truthfully I knew we were a long way from 'okay.' This was A Big Deal and something that was going to take some getting used to on both our parts. Hell, just my physical condition at the moment was a complete train wreck; I knew in all honesty I shouldn't be doing anything more than figuring out fifty ways to fluff my pillow right now. Normally I would wholeheartedly agree. Hell, normally I would insist on it. But this wasn't normally. God, right now I just wanted to be with him. Right now, I needed it. So I responded the only way I could and kissed him again for all I was worth.

He broke from my mouth to slide off his chair, slowly guiding me back against the floor as his swift fingers went about unbuttoning my shirt. He didn't bother to remove it, just let it hang open, afraid that trying to wrestle me out of it would further upset any of my injuries. But stretched out on my back with him over me, I forgot all about any bruises I had. His lips slanted over mine again as he began to make rather slow progress on his own shirt. Tseng just finished button number three when I growled impatiently, not in the mood to fumble around with anything that required opposable thumbs, and simply yanked the rest of his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. I laid my hand on his chest as I looked up at him, stroking the smooth skin then experimentally licked my index finger and brushed it across his nipple. I watched as his eyes darkened instantly with arousal.

A frenzy of our remaining clothes scattered about his office in only a matter of minutes, breaking contact with our mouths only when absolutely necessary. Straddling my hips, he leaned over me, trapping our erections between our bodies, and slowly ground his hips against mine.

Screwing my eyes shut, I listened to the sound of his voice vibrate through my skin. "I want you..." Tseng moaned. I was already moving my legs, opening myself up to him; I didn't care about the pain now. Hell, after what I had been through today, I would have gladly welcomed it. But he pushed my legs back down to the floor. "No," he whispered with a smile that looked like the proverbial cat that caught the canary. "I want you inside me."

That would definitely teach me to pay attention from now on.

There haven't been too many times in my life when I've been at a loss for words, but the last 24 hours were making some kind of record out of me. I was going to lose my reputation if I wasn't careful. Good thing Tseng didn't wait long for any kind of answer.

Reaching down between us, he grabbed my length in a grip that felt like steel wrapped in velvet. He shifted his position slightly, and as Tseng's obsidian gaze locked onto mine once more, slowly he lowered himself onto me. Nervously I watched, afraid I might hurt him. But then I was inside and I forgot to care. I gasped and grabbed for the first thing I could find to hold on to, tightening my hand around his thigh, until my fingers dug so far into his flesh, I left imprints. The feeling of being inside him was phenomenal...so warm, sofuckingtight, and slick, wondering how the hell that was possible. And then it occurred to me hazily that the bastard probably planned for this, too, or at least considered it a possibility, and I'll be damned. I'm new at this but I'm not stupid. Tseng really is the ultimate Boy Scout.

Tseng began to rock his hips in an even tempo—fast, then slow, then fast again—our synchronization dead on as I thrust to counter his movements. I watched in amazed wonder his stomach muscles tighten and release, stoking me from the inside as he contracted himself tightly around me. Seeking out his pleasure, my hand moved without even thinking to curl around his erection, and I attempted to stroke him as he rotated his hips, causing me to hiss involuntarily as I drove myself deeper inside. My rhythm was off, having to use my less-dominate hand on him was proving to be problem number one of having broken my right arm, but his hand wrapped around mine and steadily guided me, helping me pleasure him. "You feel so good," he panted.

I was so totally hypnotized by the look on his face—so normally controlled and emotionless, now the absolute polar opposite of that: The cords in his neck popping, the heat of desire in his gaze, the look of pure rapture on his features. It was thoroughly fascinating the transformation I was watching. I was so caught up in it, I barely realized how close I was, how close he was, too, for that matter. It became quite obvious when I watched him arch his back like a bow and throw back his head so far his hair tickled my thighs. "Ah! Gods—Reno!" he cried out, chest heaving as he shuddered his release onto our joined hands.

And only seconds later when my name was still a dying sound on his lips, did I jerk forward, thrusting into him hard and deep one last time before emptying myself completely, pulling him down on top of me to bury my face in his gorgeous hair. "Ohmyfuckinggod..."

I wasn't gonna win any poetry contests with that, but it got the point across.

Hearts pounding, breath ragged and bodies slick with sweat, we laid together in a tangled heap, Tseng's head pillowed on my shoulder. He wasn't allowing me to move a muscle, claiming we'd both put enough stress on my body for one day, and for a change, I wasn't arguing with him.

We'd used my stained dress shirt to clean ourselves off—Tseng had looked at it doubtfully, and suggested a little stain remover might be just the thing I'd need to salvage it. I shook my head and insisted the only thing that would help that shirt after today was an incinerator. He shrugged and gave no other arguments either. Vaguely, it occurred to me that I still had to get out of the Shin-Ra Tower sometime this evening, and that I'd probably draw my share of looks from late-night workers and security guards if I were to walk out of the lobby completely shirtless. But I always draw those kinds of looks no matter what I wear...why should now be any different?

I absently traced my fingertips up and down his spine, enjoying the feel of his muscles jumping slightly under his skin. "I hope this doesn't become a pattern," I half-joked, breaking a long silence. "I'm not going to have hurt myself every time I want to be with you, am I?" Okay, so it wasn't even a half-joke. I was serious and not even my shot at an admittedly phony smile could hide the anxiety in my voice from Tseng as he looked at me, concern etched into his own features.

"Better not," he answered tersely. "Besides, you've got a week off now to recover. I might be able to work in a long lunch or two just to prove your wrong."

"Waitaminute," I said, stopping the laps my hand had been doing up and down his back. "You mean you're still suspending me?"

"Absolutely."

"Without pay?" I whimpered.

Tseng's eyes met mine and that The Smirk ™ was back, fully in place. "If I don't pay you, then I'm not obligated to call you in."

I gave him a wry look. "Clever bastard," I muttered. "What about Sal?"

Tseng shrugged indifferently. "We've got eyes and ears all over this city. He won't get too far. I'm sure Rude and I can handle it if we run up against him in the next week—" I moved to protest this, but he cut me off by putting his finger over my mouth. "Don't worry, Reno. We'll be better prepared this time. You won't be along to distract me, for one." I snorted in annoyance.

"No favors, Reno," he said, in all seriousness. I'm going to be just as hard on you as I ever was. Maybe even more so."

"I know," I groaned dismally. Oh well. I really hadn't expected Tseng to cut me any slack. The discipline would be good for me...or so he would no doubt say. In all honesty I couldn't help but feel a little warmed by it, though. It really had been a long time since anyone had bothered to worry about me this much...if ever. Not to mention, I was really looking forward to some of those long lunch breaks as well. Didn't mean I still couldn't whine about it, though. Why break tradition?

"And..." he added with a rueful look, "we can't tell anyone about this."

Well, duh. That was a no-brainer. I looked at him like he'd just asked me the square root of zero. "Who would I tell?"

Tseng thought a moment, quirked a dubious eyebrow and shrugged. "Rude?"

I scoffed out loud at the very notion. "Oh, like I would tell Rude. He might be my best friend, but I don't want to know about his sex life, and I'm almost positive the feeling's mutual." I gave Tseng a long, searching look for a moment, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes, realizing he was just as scared as I was. "Look, Tseng...I don't want to pick out china patterns with you. I just want everything to go on as normal, too...whatever is normal for two corporate assassins who just happen to be lovers. See? Piece o' cake." I offered him my best grin of the shit-eating variety.

Tseng laughed and genuinely smiled. It was still so strange to see him really smile, and yet it looked so natural, so gorgeous on him, it just lit up his entire face and made him look...well, young. It was gonna take some getting used to. All of this was. Everything that I'd just said was all a load of bullshit, and we both knew it—everything was changing now. But I tried to push that out of my head right now and just enjoy the moment, the feel of his body pressed against mine, the touch of his hands on me, the heat of his gaze, and that goddamn beautiful smile... Was this worth it? Hell, yes.

"Besides," I added smugly, pulling his head down to my shoulder again, "I'm not sure what it would do to Rude...him knowing you loved me more than him. It might break his little heart."

Tseng snorted wetly and shook his head. "Don't even go there." He fell silent and for a moment as he laid on my chest, tracing his index finger slowly around my belly button, traveling up over my ribs and running his thumb over the protruding bones like he was strumming a guitar, then back down again to stoke my hip bone. Then around the front again to dip lower...and lower...almost... I closed my eyes tight, my breathing heavy as I anticipated his touch, lifting my hips toward his hand, and then—

—he snickered.

"What the hell is so funny?" I irritably demanded. That was like getting dumped with a bucket of ice water. I was used to being laughed at, but this was just mean.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Nothing, nothing, I was just..." He paused tentatively and pushed himself up on his elbow. Guardedly, he asked: "Did...Rude ever tell you what his real name is?"

I snorted and chuckled. "Yeah, I already know," I said. "It's Rudolph." Now if we could just get back to what he was doing beforehand. I pushed into him again and silently willed his hand to move. Leave it to Rude to totally suck all the excitement out of a room without even being there.

"Did he tell you that, himself?"

"Rude didn't tell me dick," I said, looking over at Tseng. "I looked in his personnel file."

"Reno!" he lightly scolded.

I shrugged breezily and grinned. "Someone should learn to lock their desk."

"I do lock my desk," he growled through his teeth, his eyebrows forming a tight V above the bridge of his nose. "Some picklocks should learn to stay out of other people's business."

"I was gettin' rusty. I needed the practice."

Tseng scoffed and collapsed heavily on the floor next to me, staring up at the ceiling. "I can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I?"

I rolled over, clinging to his side like a vine, snaking my leg through his and resting my chin on his chest. Tseng propped his head up with his arm behind his head and peered down into my eyes. "I wish you wouldn't," I purred, giving him my best come-hither look. A slow smile stretched across his lips, but not a smile of affection or seduction. He was just barely holding back a laugh. Man, I just can't win, can I?

But Tseng quickly reigned in his self-control and merely fell back to his default smirk as he stared at me. "What were you doing looking for Rude's personnel folder, anyway?"

"I wasn't," I stated. "I was looking for mine. I just happened to run into his first. Your filing system sucks. It's 'E' before 'U,' you know. Reno comes before Rude...or at least I'd like to think so." I grinned widely at him.

Tseng rolled his eyes and dropped his head back to the floor again. "Makes perfect sense if you know his full name."

"Oh?" It hadn't occurred to me that this would be the perfect time to grill Tseng for any info on Rude I might not already know. Tseng seemed awfully relaxed after sex...well, relaxed for Tseng anyway. And he's likely to be hip to mountains more dirt that I was. I know Tseng said no special favors for me. But this wasn't a favor. This was my duty. "What is his last name, anyway?"

"I said his full name, not just his last name."

"So, what is it?" I repeated, trying to keep my patience in check.

"I can't tell you. It'd be a breech of security."

"Oh, come on," I complained. "How could that possibly be a security breech? I mean, I know you scrub our names from any records when we're hired, but—"

"Yes, but it's also my password to every single access point in this building." Tseng turned his head dismissively away from me and closed his eyes, but not before I saw that little smirk creep up around the edges of his mouth just a little wider than usual.

My jaw dropped slightly and I stared at Tseng in disbelief. "Why the hell is Rude's name your password?" I demanded.

"Jealous?" There was a self-satisfied taunt to his tone, and I realized then he was having entirely too much fun with this. He actually appeared as if he was on the verge of an actual laugh.

"Maybe," I growled.

Tseng shrugged nonchalantly. "Well don't be. Let's just say it's not a name I'm likely to forget..." He cleared his throat. Maybe it was my imagination, but that also might've even been a chuckle.

All right, to hell with sex, this was way more critical. There comes a time in every man's life when he realizes what he was put on this earth to do, his calling, his One True Purpose, when pride and dignity mean nothing in the quest for truth and knowledge. My purpose is to Annoy Rude. If I'd blown that, I would never forgive myself. Sometimes there are just greater battles to be won.

Tseng was just about to reach for his clothes when I caught his arm. "Tseng," I crooned sweetly, "Please tell me?"

I was about as close to spontaneously combusting as a person could get. He paused thoughtfully for a moment, as if debating on whether or not to spill it to me, but then shook his head. "No. I can't."

I hung onto his arm and refused to let go. I was aggravatingly close to biting him out of frustration. "Please?" I said almost desperately. "What is it? Reindeer?"

"Pfft. Too easy."

"Oh, I gotta know, now. You know I gotta know."

Sobering abruptly, he attempted to turn away once again. "No you don't. Just forget I said anything. I can't tell you—Reno!"

"Like hell you can't!" Throwing caution—and probably what was left of my physical well-being—to the wind, I pounced on him and pinned him firmly under me. I knew it wouldn't have taken him much effort to throw me off completely, but I caught the mischievous glint in his eye and knew he wouldn't. "Tell me."

"It's confidential." Tseng sealed his mouth in tight line, though his dark eyes gleamed like hellfire.

"Tell me," I insisted louder this time.

"If he ever finds out I told anyone—especially you—he'd kill me, so just forget it," he said sternly, trying to feign seriousness. "Now let me up."

"I'll kill you if you don't tell me," I snarled.

"Like you could," he sarcastically intoned, narrowing his eyes into slits.

He had me there. But I had other methods of negotiating. My methods. "Tseeeeeennng!" I wailed. "I thought you said you trusted me."

"I do trust you. It's your mouth I have doubts about."

"Has my mouth ever done anything to hurt you?" I pouted.

"Yes, you bit me not even half-an-hour ago." Tseng pointed to a large purpling bruise on his neck right above his collarbone that still had a nice indentation of my teeth where I'd chomped him but good. God, it really did look horrible, but...

"Is it my fault you're so damn tasty?"

Tseng narrowed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Won't work. Now get off me. I'm warning you, Reno."

I didn't budge. When he'd said he would be tougher on me, I didn't realize just how tough. But I could play this just as well as he could.

"I am not going to go through and change every single password I have just for your amusement," he said.

"Oh, please. I have nearly the same security access clearance you do, why the hell would I give a damn about your password? Anything I can't get into is just one less thing I have to do." He stared evenly at me for a long time, and I nearly chewed off my own tongue from the anticipation. Then suddenly, Tseng flipped me off him, rolled over me and traded positions. He restrained my arms pinning them to the floor with a hand on each of my biceps, strong enough to hold me there, but not anywhere enough to hurt me. Breathless, I looked up at the expression of wicked amusement he wore, as he repositioned his knee just mere inches from a Very Private Sector Downtown. Ooo, yes... Now this is what I call negotiating.

"Swear," he demanded.

Panting, I tried to arch up closer to him, but he wouldn't let me move. "Fuck," I said, struggling against him just a little with a cheeky grin, taking him literally.

His eyes flared in exasperation. "Not that kind of swearing. Swear you won't tell."

"I swear! I swear!" I wheedled. Focus, Reno. This is important. This was Rude's dignity on the line here, and my one chance to snuff it. "I swear, oh I so swear. I swear on a stack of Bibles."

Tseng snorted sarcastically. "Coming from you? That means nothing."

Hmm. He had a point. "I swear on...my free stolen cable hookup."

He seemed to weigh this option with a little more significance. "Better. What else?"

"Um...my porn collection?"

"Hn. And?"

"My gun?" I submitted as my last hope.

He seemed to consider my answer thoughtfully for a moment, and for one horrifying, scared-stiff second, I thought he'd change his mind just to see me suffer. Then he smiled like the sexy villain he is, leaned down, brushed his lips just barely against my ear, and gave me full disclosure...

You could say it wasn't really that funny. You could say that I was only curled up in a ball on the floor of Tseng's office trying desperately not to laugh every single one of my internal organs up through my nose because I needed the mental release. That I'd experienced enough anxiety, drama, excitement, and physical strain to last me a year, let alone a day, and that it was no wonder I was giggling like an insane asylum. You could say there were a million reasons I was laughing like I was, none of which had anything to do with what Tseng had just told me. You could say that.

And you'd be wrong.

It was that funny. And it was a good thing I had the next week off, after all. I'm not sure I could look Rude in the face without collapsing on the floor and dying of laughter right in front of him. God, his parents must've really hated him. Hell, even Tseng was laughing. At least a little.

He was also trying to shut me the hell up. Hovering over me, he made cute little shushing sounds to me, folded my arms neatly over my chest and gently stroked the hair out of my eyes. I was no help at all. I was actually in pain now more from laughing than anything else from the whole day.

Tseng tried to caution me like the mother hen that he is: "Reno, don't hurt yourself...you're being too loud...it's not really that funny..." Oh, no. It was that funny, and every time Tseng tried to convince me it wasn't, one of us would repeat it to test the theory, and I'd burst out again, laughing until my lungs ached.

Finally, in a last ditch effort to shut me up, Tseng bent over me and devoured my mouth in the most intense kiss ever to exist on this hemisphere. My toes curled, my eyeballs rolled, and as his tongue insistently explored my mouth, I forgot how to breathe, how to talk, how to laugh—in fact, I even forgot everything I had been laughing about in the first place.

Well...almost.

Epilogue:

Rest and Re-frustration

Well, after the week I'd had, it turns out getting suspended wasn't bad.

It was infinitely worse.

In the space of two whole days, I'd gone from having a secret school-boy crush on my boss, to having a full-blown affair with the man. As if that wasn't enough to swallow (no pun intended), the very next day, I had front row seats to see him—and my best friend, Rude—nearly bite the dust when a deal with a con who calls himself the "Salamander" went horribly, horribly wrong.

Of course, I actually managed to one-up both of them on the injury list. Never let it be said I don't love a good competition. But escaping with a few nasty bruises and scrapes and one broken wrist wasn't anything compared to the alternative of being a Turk Force of One. I'd rather have broken every bone in my body than lose either Tseng or Rude.

Didn't mean I wasn't sore as hell the day after, though.

So, you think I'd love a little time off. Time I never get to sleep in, catch a few good flicks on video I've been meaning to see, and just generally enjoy being a bum while I sit around in my own filth.

Wrong

What it did do was give me too much time to think. Oh, I managed to sleep in. That was not and never will be a problem...at least once I was able to get to sleep. Every time I shut my eyes the same scenes of Tseng getting tossed across the room to crash down on a tabletop, or Rude catching a bullet in the gut while I stood by and just watched kept repeating in my head like a bad movie.

That last one in particular really got to me for some reason. Sure, I knew Rude had never actually been shot, but for that one split second when time seemed to stop as the revolver had been drawn and pointed right at him, I remember cringing and gritting my teeth, just standing there and waiting for it to happen. Just waiting... Of course, maybe two seconds after the fact I realized there hadn't even been any bullets loaded in that revolver, and Rude was still in one whole piece. I guess my subconscious was just still having a tough time accepting that.

Tseng was right. I have gotten emotionally attached. To both of them. But we're talking about my best friend here. Rude's like a brother to me, dammit. How could I not be attached? Christ, even as much as he pisses me off sometimes, I know my life would be a lot emptier without him. At least a lot more boring.

And my lover. Tseng... My lover. I kept rolling around the phrase in my head, half-convincing myself I didn't even have any right to call him that. That he was still Tseng the Perfect, and I was still Reno the Chump, and we were a million miles away from being real lovers. But he'd wanted me. He'd said so. He let me have him, and I hadn't even asked for it. I'd still been trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I was kissing him—the idea of being inside him nearly made me blow a gasket. Never even fucking mind how it had felt. God... Attached? You better damn believe I was.

I'd left Tseng's office that night with a fresh cast on my arm, one week's suspension, and one shirt less, but a grin so wide it nearly wrapped around the back of my head. I'd felt pretty damn great then. But after I'd gotten home, the little aches and pains had started to kick in and the euphoria from my 'review' with Tseng began to wear off. It wasn't until I'd started to drift to off to sleep later that night that I kept hearing a single gun shot ring in my ears followed by the distinct vision of Rude crumpling to the floor, blood collecting underneath him in a huge red pool. It shook me wide awake. After about the third time of this, I finally caved in and gave Rude a call at 3:00 in the morning.

"Hey, where'd you go?" he asked. He didn't sound the least bit phased, not even for 3:00 in the morning. I've called him late before, and he never sounds phased. I have a theory that he sleeps all day, you just can't tell behind those dark glasses of his. "I didn't see you after you left the infirmary."

"Tseng suspended me for a week," I ruefully told him.

"Jesus..."

"Yeah..."

"So what are you gonna do?" he said then.

"I dunno. Guess I'll just hang around here for the week."

"No. About Tseng."

"Oh. Well...we had a talk," I said casually, thankful he wasn't there to see the blush creeping up my ears. "We came to an understanding. He still wouldn't retract the suspension, but his reasons sounded legit enough for me not to press it. We're cool now." Rude grunted in a way that sounded like he wasn't entirely convinced, so I changed the subject. "Say, he didn't give you any shit, I suppose, did he?"

"Nope," said Rude, "but your name's been Tseng's favorite curse word since then. Says I was forced to go after you to avoid breaking up the team or some such crap, and who am I to argue?"

"Asshole," I smirked, and Rude grunted again for what might have been a chuckle.

There was a long pause on the line before he finally asked, "You okay?"

I sighed tiredly, not really sure how to answer that question. It's not the easiest thing in the world to share to a person that every time you try to sleep, the only thing you can see is their death. I'd already had a sense of closure with Tseng earlier that night, but right then I was just relieved and thankful to be hearing Rude's voice on the other side. "Yeah...I'm all right. You?"

Another pause. "Mostly. Just tired I guess."

"Yeah, me too. I'll let you go then. Hey, try not to get into too much trouble without me next week, eh?"

That got a big snort in my ear from Rude. "I don't think that's possible, Reno," he said dryly. "Later, man."

"Yeah... Later."

Just a nice, short, to-the-point conversation, appropriately subdued to keep our masculine pride squarely in check. God forbid Rude and I should ever try to express affection for one another beyond a caveman grunt. But just hearing his voice did seem to make me feel better. At least when I closed my eyes the next time, the images seemed to fade somewhat.

The rest of the time when I was actually awake, I moped around my apartment feeling completely useless and isolated. And horny, thanks to Tseng. And with a broken right arm, that wasn't an easy matter to fix.

The first day was actually not that bad. I got up at the crack of noon, showered and sat down to watch Big Trouble in Little Wutai, one of my all-time favorites. I laughed in the right places, cheered in the right places and bit my nails during all the action scenes. It was a great way to pass the time. But after it was over, I found my thoughts drifting back to Tseng. How was he, what was he doing...when would he call? Would he call? And back around the circuit again. The second time watching the movie, I paid less attention to the movie and more attention to my thoughts about Tseng. The third time watching the movie, I actually began drawing comparisons between Tseng and the main villain. I knew then that it was seriously time to move on to something else.

Day two was essentially the same, except this time I watched Harold the Duck, a film I'd never seen before that I'd picked up on Rude's recommendation; he said it had been the funniest thing he'd ever seen. Figuring I could've used a good laugh, I popped it in and watched the whole thing all the way through… Let's just say it was not ever going on my favorites list. If it had been the only movie ever made, it still wasn't going on there. Funniest thing ever, huh? The laugh was obviously on me. There's no way even Rude has taste that bad. Now I was going to have to kill him for the 90 some-odd minutes I'd never get back in my entire freaking life.

More moping, more guessing, add in a little second-guessing, and still no visit or phone call. After the third day, my walls began to watch me. I was almost certifiably batshit insane from being cooped up in the place, and to my absolute horror, I found myself actually cleaning my apartment. I threw out all the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles, recycled a massive tower of newspapers that I'd never read and picked up all my dirty laundry. I even managed to shelve some CD's I'd bought nearly six months ago—I'd been wondering what happened to those—and drag a vacuum cleaner I'd forgot I owned across the carpet.

During my little cleaning extravaganza, I actually discovered something very interesting...besides my floor, that is: that when all the trash and junk was cleared and put away, I really don't own much of anything. A couple pieces of furniture, some stereo equipment and a TV, and an old beat up, out-of-tune guitar that was missing three strings. That's pretty much it in a nutshell. No smiling, cheery photos of friends and loved ones, no interesting collectibles, no little shoeboxes stuffed full of old love-letters... I chewed this over for some time, not sure if I should feel sorry for myself about it or not. I'd been transient for so long, I never gave thought to throwing out anything that might weigh me down. After a while, though, I decided that it probably wasn't such a bad thing—after all, less possessions means less mess to clean up…in theory anyway—but resolved to at least get some new guitar strings when my arm was better.

Day four, I stared at the phone all day and willed it to ring. Three times it actually did. I am happy to say that I was not desperate enough to switch my long-distance carrier any of those three times. Fuckers. 'Mister Reno' this. I got your calling card plan right here.

That night, I checked my e-mail, picked through all the amusing stuff like the dirty jokes Rude forwards to me, and ditched the corporate crap I could've cared less about. I thought about writing Tseng a quick note, and ended up drafting a three-page letter that I, in the end, didn't have the balls to send.

Still no word from him.

Day five, I was sick of my apartment. Every corner of it felt empty and hollow and actually echoed when I had the TV on. I should've never cleaned it in the first place. Just as I had finally convinced myself to actually get out and go somewhere—to buy some pictures for the wall or some new piece of furniture I didn't need—I got a call around three o' clock that afternoon.

"Are you enjoying your time off?" It was Tseng's über-calm, ultra-cool, super-collected voice on the other line, which at first I was ecstatic to hear, but half-a-second later remembered I just spent 5 days pissed off at him.

"No," I sulked, resisting the urge to nag him for half-an-hour straight for not calling sooner. I reminded myself that things were still new between us, too new for me to go and start whining about the 'little things.' Plus, he had that pesky job he had to attend to, which, as I knew first-hand, could be quite demanding. I actually can talk myself out of a lot of stupid things when I stop and think about them in advance.

Not to mention my suspension was supposed to be a punishment not a reward, and that was working quite effectively. After all, he was my boss and had been the one to serve it to me. Tseng probably knew right off I'd beat myself up more than he would ever have to. "Good," he carelessly remarked. "Glad to hear it's working out then." He took a deep and audible breath before I could respond. "I have a little something for you."

Please return all complaints and nagging to their full, up-right positions. A 'little something,' eh? "What is it?" I asked warily, half-steeling myself for another week's suspension or maybe something even worse.

Ignoring my question, he asked, "Are you going to be there tonight?"

I sighed peevishly and made no attempt to hide the annoyance in my tone. "Well, I had some engagements marked on my calendar for this evening," I said sarcastically. "But I suppose my award acceptance ceremony for Biggest Sucker in the World can be postponed."

"Excellent." He sounded cool and neutral as always. Not a single damn inflection came through his voice over the phone. I think I would've at least been happier if he'd been a little cheeky, or sarcastic, or mad, or some damn thing. "I'll see you at seven." He hung up before I could even respond. The entire conversation had taken place in less than a minute.

I growled into the receiver and slammed down the phone in frustration. Screw him…

Of course, that thought naturally brought a wide and devious grin to my mouth.

Good thing I'd cleaned up after all.

Over the next four hours I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out what to wear. So far, I'd barely made the effort to slip on a pair of sweatpants all week once I'd managed to fall out of bed, and now I was facing the challenge that almost every single pair of blue jeans I owned were button-fly. Looks great…when you have the use of both hands to dress yourself. Finally I found an old, baggy pair of dark gray denim jeans that I think had been black at some point in their career. They had a normal working zipper, and the top button that I just left undone for simplicity's sake. Most pants were not designed for people without the use of opposable thumbs. I gave thanks out loud to the fact that I wasn't required to tie a shoe next. The shirt was a whole lot easier: a long-sleeved dark grey t-shirt I was able to easily pull over my head and shove my arms through. It did a pretty nifty job hiding the cast, too, which I wasn't inclined to parading around in front of Tseng in the first place. Jesus knows he was already well enough aware of it without me waving around in front of him as a constant reminder.

Once I'd figured out how to dress myself, I'd pretty much ran out of any other options for entertainment for the next two hours. I plopped myself down on my couch and promptly fell asleep. Never let it be said I don't know how to waste time constructively. After all, life is just a series of events that take place between naps.

The sharp knock on my door jarred me from my coma.

I shook the fog from my head wondering who in hell would be at my door. I hadn't ordered dinner yet, and I wasn't in the mood to get up just to go shoo away some ornery fucking kid selling magazine subscriptions. Can't con a con, dammit. And who would have the balls to go knocking randomly on doors in this neighborhood at...exactly...7...PM...?

Shit!

Tumbling off the couch, I straightened my shirt and made half an effort to finger-comb the bed-head out of my hair, knocking myself in the temple with my cast as I did so. Ow-fuck! I was never going to get used to this goddamn thing and I couldn't wait 'till it was off. And once it was cut off, I had plans to take the husk and put it through a shredder and feed the pieces to the fish in the Tower's lobby aquarium.

Slightly dazed and slightly rumpled, I opened my front door—a door that swung open just like every other door, from left to right—with my left hand. Twisting the knob felt rather awkward, and opening it required conscious thought; I was beginning to see why Lefties are generally psychotic people.

Tseng stood in the threshold with his arms clasped behind his back, dressed in his typical navy Turk suit with starched white collar and black, pressed tie, and pressed dress pants and shined shoes, and dry-cleaned black overcoat hanging open, and pressed underwear and socks, no doubt... Jesus. He looked exactly like he does every single day: Perfect. I grinned.

He didn't. "What are you doing out of bed?" he growled.

My jaw dropped in exasperation. "You knocked. What was I supposed to do?"

He stared hard at me for a long moment, his eyebrows knotted in disappointment. Suddenly the harsh glare vanished replaced with an amusing gleam in his eye, and then he grinned, stepping inside and pushing me back inside my apartment with a hand against my chest. I rolled my eyes and snorted. I almost liked Tseng more before he'd had a sense of humor, if that's what you wanna call it. And seeing him smile is still a little unnerving. I haven't gotten used to it. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I hate it…not in the least.

Both of us securely inside my apartment, he kicked the door closed in back of him, grabbed a fistful of my shirt with the hand that was pressed against my chest, and dragged me close, promptly sealing his mouth over mine. No hellos, no nice-to-see-you's or lengthy how-are-you's... What was I? A piece of meat? Honestly.

Tseng moved his hand behind my head and deepened our kiss, his tongue leisurely exploring my mouth, then pressed the length of his whole body against mine. I could feel the searing heat of his skin, even through all those clothes, and he felt so damn good, I forgot entirely about the last five days, the cast on my arm, everything, except that fact that he was there and this is what I'd been dying for.

Make that one Reno, very well-done piece of meat.

Slowly, he pulled away. "So, how are we feeling?" he asked with a self-satisfied little smirk.

"Fine," I answered curtly.

Then his gaze softened as he ran his hand gently over the top of my shoulder and down my arm to my cast as if checking to be sure I was still in one piece. "And the bruises?"

"They look a whole lot worse than they feel," I said, offering him a sincere little smile. He nodded gravely, and reached down to give the fingers poking out of my cast a fond squeeze. "Tseng," I sighed, "it's a broken arm. Not a heart transplant." I caught his gaze and looked unwaveringly into his eyes. "I think I'm gonna pull through."

The smirk crept back in its usual position. "Well, you have been resting...haven't...you…?" His words absently trailed off as he glanced peculiarly around my apartment, as if something wasn't quite right, or as if something had been misplaced. But Tseng had never seen the inside of my apartment before. He'd always known where I lived, but I'd always been too self-conscious to invite him in. "Are we in the right apartment?"

I drew back at the question and frowned. "Yeah. Why?"

"It's just...I expected your place to be a little more, well...chaotic."

I looked at him wryly. "You think I'm that much of a slob?" Dumb question. "Don't answer that." He detached himself from me, slowly walking around my living room to inspect it carefully. I didn't feel the need to tour him through it; it's not a very big place. Any chimpanzee could've memorized the entire layout within thirty seconds of walking in. But I did feel a little awkward, watching him pad around my living room. Tseng was very detail oriented, and I'm sure he was picking up more about me than just what kind of fabric patterns I prefer on my furniture.

"Wanna drink?" I casually offered, trying to divert his attention.

"Funny you should ask..." He walked back over to me and brought out a bottle covered in a brown paper bag that he'd been carrying around behind his back. Jesus. I hadn't even noticed he'd been holding anything. He always moved so fluid-like and confident, like a seasoned magician, sometimes I really wondered if Tseng wasn't just literally pulling this stuff from up his sleeve. He pulled off the bag and held out the bottle for me to see—a squat, contoured bottle with a long neck filled with a warm, honey-colored liquid. "A present," he said, and turned the bottle so I could read the label.

My jaw dropped.

The elegant label was stamped 'Kingston Rum,' a name I easily recognized. An ordinary liter of Kingston V will run you at about 15 gil, and it's a pretty damn fine tasting rum if you're into mixing the stuff. X is about twice the price, and by itself, is very not bad. And on down the line until the highest I've ever seen available was a bottle of XXV that went for 250 g. Not that I'd ever actually pay for that. Somehow paying 250 g seemed a little too classy for my slum-rat blood. I typically drink for efficiency not quality. But this wasn't Kingston V or X. This wasn't even XXV. Up at the top in a small little stamp were the Roman numerals XVL. The label read, in neat cursive print: Kingston's 45-Year Reserve.

Kingston's XVL was a legend in alcohol. A liter of it goes for about 2000 g, and that's IF you can smuggle it out of Costa del Sol without being arrested. It's illegal to export since it's so rare, and pretty much only high-level dignitaries and celebrities have ever tasted it. This was the good stuff. The stuff you savor and sniff and hold on your tongue until it practically evaporates on its own. Mixing it with anything would be a mortal sin.

This bottle was still sealed.

I swooned as though Tseng had just handed me a solid gold brick. It was probably a good thing he didn't trust me enough to hand me the entire bottle. "What...what the...? How...?" I stammered.

"Found it at the Charlie's place we turned over today." 'Charlie' was our word for 'target' we'd picked up from an old hunting term that meant 'fox.' "Actually, Rude found it," he amended. "He thought you might be interested."

"Rude?" I gasped. "Wanted me to have it?" My god, what a guy. This completely made up for the Harold the Duck movie, and then some. Hell, I was gonna end up owing him if it was really as good as I'd heard it was. Let me just say once again for the record, what a guy. I straightened and mockingly wiped an imaginary tear from my eye. "I will never, ever make fun of him again," I pledged.

Tseng wasn't fooled. "Yes you will."

"No matter how funny I think his name is..."

"Don't start..." he warned.

"...for at least half-a-day," I finished grinning widely at Tseng, who was wearing a rather wicked, knowing smile of his own. I'd promised to withhold my knowledge of Rude's real name under any and all circumstances for the rest of my life, punishable by death should I accidentally reveal it. Suicide was mandatory if I was coerced. Didn't mean I still didn't know it, though, or find it amusing as hell. I mean, I love the guy to pieces, but what some parents do to their kids is just evil.

"So you want some of this?" Tseng sobered, jarring me from my reverie. He walked into my kitchen, making himself at home right away.

"I don't know," I answered reverently, settling myself on a barstool on the opposite side of the counter. "I think I just might want to stare at it for a while. Shame Rude's not here to try some of it."

"Oh, he had some already," Tseng explained, shrugging out of his overcoat and draping it over the counter. "This wasn't the only bottle we found. It was just the only unopened bottle. We found one that was almost full and had a few drinks back in my office before giving the rest to the Old Man." He peeled off his navy blazer and set it on top of his coat. I watched, feeling my mouth begin to water, as he tackled his necktie next, then unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt collar and rolled up his sleeves. I kept silently willing for him to keep going, but he didn't. "Where do you keep your glasses?" he asked.

I pointed to a cabinet behind him, and he turned around to help himself while I very much enjoyed the view from where I was. "So how much was left?" I asked.

Tseng shrugged as he pulled down two small juice glasses. "'Bout a third of the bottle," he casually shrugged. "Shinra never even suspected. Said it was the best thing anyone had brought him all week."

"Jesus, two bottles?" I shook my head. "Who was this 'Charlie?'"

"Just a little blast from recent past," he smirked as he cracked the seal on the top of the bottle and unscrewed the lid. "You might remember him as the Salamander..."

"Sal! " I blurted. "You got him?"

Tseng's smirk widened into a genuine grin. "Rude's the one that caught up with him after we found out where he lived. He actually lacked the intelligence to avoid the place. On a whim, Rude decided to go check it out, and the Salamander was just hanging out there cool as a cucumber."

"Well, holy shit," I mused, thoughtfully. The Salamander... 'Sal' was more or less responsible for my broken arm, the remaining bruises I had all over my body, and somewhat to blame for my suspension. At least I was willing to blame him for it as he was as good a reason as any. He was also indirectly responsible for the fact that Tseng and I had recently discovered there was more to our relationship than boss/lackey stereotype. I guess I kind of felt like I owed the guy for that, at least. Not that I was going to be sending him a pick-me-up bouquet to thank him or anything, not after those nightmares I'd kept having. "I had no idea he even had that good a taste."

"Well...he won't be missing it now," he said, humorlessly. "Right about now, Sal is laying in Midgar General learning how to eat through a tube. In about seven months when he's finally discharged, I'm sure he'll be one of Shin-Ra Electric's biggest supporters." Tseng poured the amber liquid into one of the two glasses, and stopped, his expression darkening suddenly. "Especially since Shin-Ra Inc. is so generously paying for his recovery. I guess it's the least we could do for giving us all that valuable Materia." He poured the other glass and spattered a little on his hand as he lifted the neck of the bottle. His mouth covered the spill at once and sucked on it, and his eyelids fluttered closed.

"Give?" I echoed in mild disbelief. "So you got both the Materia and the money?" Tseng didn't answer right away; he was still sucking on his hand.

"I'm sorry, you say something?" he finally asked with a contented look glazing over in his eyes.

I scoffed. "Oh, please... It can't be that good." It was just rum, right? How freaking great could it be?

Tseng picked up both glasses and gave me a harsh, reprimanding look. "Watch it," he warningly. "You are in the presence of greatness." I watched idly as he walked out of the kitchen and over toward my sofa.

"I can't speak for the rum," I said quietly, "but I could've told you that."

Tseng stopped and looked over his shoulder at me for a moment, regarding me with that same neutral expression. But after a second look, it wasn't quite neutral. His eyes narrowed briefly as he searched me, and I felt my face grow hot under his intense gaze. But I didn't look away. Slowly, a faint but genuine smile curled at the edge of his mouth and he swallowed thickly. "Reno..." he said affectionately, his voice calm and soft. "Get over here and drink this before I pour it down your throat."

Obeying at once, I slid off the barstool and walked over to where he was standing. Who am I to disagree when there's a free drink involved? He handed me the glass, which I was about to take with my right hand, then switched when I realized it would be impossible to grasp the glass. Goddamn 'lefties.' I was never gonna get used to this.

We sat down next to one another on the couch and I sank low into the cushions. Tseng sat just to my left reclining in a natural position that left no space between us. Feeling pretty damn smug, I lifted the glass pompously into the air and took a generous sip...

And angels sang.

Frankly, it was fan-fucking-tastic. I've never tasted a better, smoother more pleasant spirit in my entire life. I guess price really does make a difference. Then again, for 2000 gil, it better damn well be good. It better all but offer to sleep with me. And that I was hoping it would at least help me out a little with.

"Arrrrrrrrrrrrr," I growled like a pirate. "That's some mighty fine rum ye got thar, matie!"

Tseng snorted, and clinked my glass. "Drink up me hearties, yo ho," he added, and took another drink.

"Who you callin' aho?" I smirked.

Tseng quickly slapped his hand over his mouth, attempting not to spit rum everywhere as he choked. I shifted my drink and propped it up on the couch by my thigh to give him a few hearty pats on the back with my good hand. Finally he managed to recover fairly gracefully. I wasn't the least bit sorry. I'd still owed him for the last time at the bar where he'd pulled the same shit with me when he'd told me he'd been married. We were tied now; Tseng one, Reno one. Not that I was keeping score or anything...

We drank together again, slowly this time, savoring it, holding it on the tongue for a moment before swallowing and exhaling through the nose, just like a couple of real connoisseurs who pretend to know what they're doing. For a moment we didn't say anything to one another, we just each stared into the air in front of us, completely and utterly euphoric. And alcohol or not, for the first time in five days, I finally felt myself truly relax.

"Can you hang out for a while?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"I could be persuaded," Tseng answered silkily.

I looked over at him and grinned. "I have some movies we could watch," I innocently suggested. "There's this great one I rented you can't miss called Harold the Duck—"

I guess Tseng must've already seen that movie, since I didn't get to finish that thought. Tseng had leaned over and kissed me again, pressing against me insistently. Kissing Tseng was almost a full-contact activity, a technique that involves not only lips, teeth and tongue, but hands, limbs and whole body, as well. This from a guy whose temperature I'd thought topped out at absolute zero during a heat wave. I couldn't have been more wrong.

His hand roamed over my chest while his tongue slid over mine. I responded by arching into his hand, and in turn he brushed his fingers lightly over my nipple, an action that sent a shock right to my dick. He swallowed my groan and cradled the back of my head, pulling me closer to him as if were possible. I tore my mouth away from his and met his eyes, eyes that glinted dangerously and almost made me feel faint. "Or," I panted, broke off and started again. "Or...we could just have wild, messy sex right here on my sofa."

His lips twisted in a feral grin. "Sounds like a plan to me," he said, and attacked my mouth again.

I tasted the rum from his mouth, sweet and intoxicating, and then his lips broke from mine and trailed a path down my jaw to trace a wet line around the edge of my ear with his tongue, stopping to nibble on each one of my earrings before moving on to the next. Who said jewelry was just for decoration? Self-mutilation can come in handy. Made me think twice about that nipple-ring I'd talked myself out of.

He pulled away from my mouth and took the drink from my hand, setting both our glasses on the end table. With no further words, he raised up and straddled my lap, threading his fingers through my hair and continuing our kiss. Ah, this position was much better, now. I could easily reach his neck and chest, which I did, licking down his long throat and tonguing the notch between his collarbones. I felt the vibrations deep in his throat hum against my face as he growled his satisfaction. He thrust his hips forward against me on reflex, just once, grinding his need into mine. Ah, shit... Time to get rid of some of these damn clothes...

I tugged awkwardly at his shirt, trying to pull the ends from his pants one-handed. Of course, I wasn't getting very far, but this was only partially due to my handicap this time; I'd never actually realized just how tight Tseng's pants were. Not that I hadn't tried to look before, but trying to catch a glimpse of your boss' ass during a normal working shift can be somewhat risky. Especially when that boss happens to notice every goddamn thing you do, even the most trivial damn little things. Of course, in light of recent events, I regretted not doing it sooner...

Eventually, Tseng helped me out with his shirt. He gave a cunning grin as he lifted the shirttails and unfastened the waistband around his pants. I felt my lip twitch in anticipation. Slowly, his long fingers then traveled up to the buttons on his shirt, and eyeing me under his lashes, began to unbutton them. Abruptly, I smacked his hand away. "I wanted to do that," I growled.

Tseng gave me a haughty look, then shifted on my lap to allow me better access. "Well. If you think you're really up to it. Didn't want you to strain yourself or anything," he remarked dryly.

"Oh, I'm strained, alright," I muttered thickly, reaching up with my left hand and carefully working the buttons loose one at a time. I allowed my fingers to brush lingeringly over his smooth skin before continuing on to the next. "Five days without this...I'm plenty strained." At the next button, I slid my hand under the shirt and passed it over his chest, grazing his nipple and rolling it slightly between my fingers.

"The idea was to punish you," he said, completely unfazed.

Punish me, huh? We'll see who's punished. Mercilessly, I pinched his nipple harder and twisted it just enough to make his eyes clamp shut, evoking a surprised yelp. "Care to make it another five days?" he growled, his eyes narrowing.

I smiled coyly, pushed his shirt aside and softly kissed the offended area in apology. And if my tongue flicked out between my lips just slightly to taste him, I swear it wasn't on purpose...well, not entirely. There was no mistaking the slight shudder than ran through him as I did so, though. Then I drew back and neatly tucked his shirt closed. "Well," I sighed in wounded resignation, "if you really think it's for the best."

Placing both arms on each side of my head and gripping the couch cushion behind me, he trapped me in his unwavering gaze and heaved a great, disapproving sigh, ruffling my hair with his breath as he exhaled. "Reno, what am I going to do with you?"

I gazed deep in his eyes. "I'm sure I could think of a few things," I breathed.

The dark eyes flashed minutely for just a fraction of a second, even though his expression never changed. "You'll never learn if I just give you what you want," he said.

I felt the corner of my mouth twist into a devious grin. "I'm sure I'll learn something."

He seemed to seriously consider this for a while. As he debated, I subtly peeled his shirt open again and continued to unbutton it. He didn't attempt to stop me, nor was he quick to hide the knowing little smile of amusement inching its way over his mouth as he proceeded to ignore me. I released the last button and let his shirt fall open as I brushed my knuckles over his hard stomach, then moved my hand to encircle his waist. I pulled myself forward and nuzzled his neck, which he teasingly tried to shrug me away from. But I persisted, nudging up to his ear and removing my hand from around his waist to run my fingers through long, dark, silken hair. "I want you..." I rasped, licking the spot right behind his ear.

His breathing deepened, and as I pulled back slightly to kiss a line along his jaw, I noticed his eyes were now closed. I continued to kiss down his neck, smiling against his skin. "Teach me, Tseng," I breathed. "Show me what you like so I can make you feel good."

Pulling back he glanced at me, arousal and affection glittering in his eyes. "You already make me feel better than I have in years," he answered sincerely, moving his hand to thread through the back of my own hair.

I shook my head slowly. "I want to know more."

His hand tightened briefly in my hair and his eyes flared once again. But he hesitated for a moment. "Anything?" he warily asked.

"Anything," I said.

Tseng searched my face for a moment, reading I-don't-know-what there. I tried not to let any of my apprehension show through. I admit that giving Tseng carte blanche made me a little nervous...but I trusted him not to hurt me or do something against my will. I trusted him. Just how far gone was I?

Reaching up, he began to stroke my throat with a feather-light touch and my eyelids drifted shut on their own. My apprehension vanished. All that was left was a warm feeling of trust and desire. He leaned in to mumble vague sweet-nothings into my ear in a deep, breathy voice that got me in the worst way. "Got any high heels and net stockings?"

"Mmmmhmmm..." I hummed absently, loving the way his lips were just brushing ever so lightly on my ear. Then suddenly, it hit me what he'd said. I choked and pushed him back to get a better view of his face. "W...WHAT?!"

"You said anything," he replied honestly.

I sputtered, my mouth hanging wide open in shock but I couldn't even respond. Then I thought—hoped…prayed—he was joking, but the look on his face said he was completely serious. This was so wrong... Did he say...net stockings?

I gulped audibly.

A wide grin slashed across his face and he made a half-assed attempt to disguise a laugh as he coughed into his fist.

I was not laughing. Not in the least bit. Not even a little smirk. I swung my arm around and pushed him off my lap and back onto the couch, where he curled up in a ball and actually laughed. "Asshole," I muttered.

After a moment or two of listening to Tseng unravel in front of me, I guess I couldn't help but feel a little warmed by it. Sure, his sense of humor needed a little work...okay, a lot of work...but Tseng isn't the type of person that laughs easily or often. Ever, if I remember, prior to last week. That alone said something to me...besides that I'm a completely laughable buffoon, who could blame him? That at least Tseng trusted me enough to see this side of him, too. How could I not feel good about that?

And there was a really infectious sound to his laugh.

My mouth twitched once and I clamped my lips in a tight line determined not to make a sound.

Tseng gave a charming little giggle. "So you cross-dress often, do you?"

"Shut up," I muttered, still trying to front a scowl and not doing it very successfully.

"Reno the drag queen. What do they call you? Rena? Red? Oh, wait. I got it... Roxanne." He snickered again, nudging my leg with his foot.

"Fuck you!" I returned cheerfully, turning to look at him. I grabbed his foot and wrestled him flat, while he continued to laugh at my expense.

I crawled up not too gracefully and stretched out over him as he threw his head back and wailed as loudly and as horribly as he could, "ROOOOOOOXAAAAAANNE! You don't hafta put on a red wig..." He reached up and tousled my hair affectionately, and I finally had to laugh with him. Tseng is very good at a lot of things, but singing, as I was finding out in a very painful way, was not one of them.

"You really know how to kill a mood, Tseng," I quipped once his laughter had died. His eyes still had a humorous glint within them as he scanned my face and idly played with the end of my ponytail.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I couldn't help myself. You just looked a little nervous when you said you'd do anything."

"I didn't mean that."

He tightened his arms around me and gave me a brief squeeze. "Do you really think I'm that sick?"

"Yes," I drawled. "But it doesn't mean I love you any less—"

Aw, Jesus. I'd said it. Said it like it was something I say every day of the week.

The 'L' word.

I hate the 'L' word. I'd never gotten used to saying it before—in fact I don't think I ever had said it before—why all of the sudden did I seem to think I knew what it meant? The two or three times someone had said it to me, I'd freaked out and all but run for the hills screaming the whole way. I'd spent the better part of the last five days convincing myself I hadn't meant it before when I'd just thought it. That whatever this was between Tseng and I was just a 'thing.' A good thing, a needed thing, but a 'thing' and nothing more. And here I'd gone and said it out loud to him... Definitely an all time low in my stupidity. Jesus.

"Er...like," I corrected, once I'd seen all traces of humor in Tseng immediately evaporate into thin air to be replaced with pure astonishment. "Like," I repeated firmly, as if I were trying to puzzle out the difference of the words. That's right...just a common mistake. Slip of the tongue. A blunder, faux pas, a 'verbal misconception.' I make 'em all the time. Hell, I'm the king of 'em. I froze and held my breath as I looked into his face, realizing with an alarming sense of terror that he wasn't buying any of it.

Goddamn it. Who was I kidding? "Shit," I exhaled, dropping my gaze.

I tried to push myself up off him, but he clung tighter and wouldn't let me up. Before I could ask him to let go of me, he cut me off. "Did you mean it?" he asked heavily.

I didn't answer. I shut my eyes for a moment just feeling very trapped. But Tseng wasn't going to let it go. "Reno. Did you mean it?" he persisted.

"I don't know," I responded more harshly than I'd intended. I released a sharp sigh and slumped against him a bit, still not physically able to fully resist his strength. "I don't know," I said again, my voice full of self-reproach. "...maybe."

Okay. This is the part where Tseng is supposed to get up and leave. Or tell me he doesn't want that, that in fact this was just a 'thing,' that I need to get real, face the facts, it ain't gonna happen, buddy, not in this lifetime... Or in a Perfect World maybe things could be different... Jeeze. Not the "Perfect World" speech. I practically invented the 'Perfect World' speech. I waited...for any and all of them, determined I was not going to let it get to me whatever it was going to be.

It was none of them.

Tseng simply tightened his arms around me, not to restrain me or hurt me, just...to hold me. He pressed his lips to my hair and sighed. He said nothing else. He simply gazed warmly into my eyes. And actually I was rather grateful for that. I'm not sure what I would've done had Tseng decided to tell me he loved me back. It would've been just too goddamn surreal for me to handle at the moment. But thankfully, he didn't deck me or walk out or give me another five days' suspension, either. I gazed down at him a little perplexed, trying to figure out just how this man worked. He gazed back with a mild expression, slowing brushing his hand across my cheek then down to trace my mouth with his index finger. I didn't feel the need to explain myself or apologize any longer, and in fact, as I crushed my body to his and gave way to his soothing touch, I didn't feel the need to do a damn thing but lay there and enjoy it.

"Now, about that 'anything,'" he murmured and pulled me close again for another deep, soul-searching kiss…

Well. Helluva lesson, I gotta say. Tseng taught me half the Karma Sutra in record time, and I showed him just how it is legs can bend that way. All in all, a good way to pass the evening, I'd say.

We lay spent, naked, sweating and breathless next to one another on my couch. Tseng placed his hand over my pounding heart as if to keep it from beating right out of my chest. It took a while before words started to make sense to me again and I wasn't seeing stars in front of my eyes. My throat was hoarse from panting, and maybe even from the few times I'd called out during certain key moments.

Tseng, too, had held absolutely nothing back. For anyone to imagine this incredibly restrained, serious—hell, downright uptight—man to have cut loose and done the things he did… Man, it's a wonder he didn't break something. Or each other, for that matter.

I couldn't help but wonder what the neighbors had thought.

"So," he finally said when vocabulary found its way back to our oxygen-deprived brains, "will you really be okay with this?"

I considered this heavily for a moment. He wasn't just asking about the insane monkey sex we'd just had, or the fact that I was falling in love with my superior, or even the fact that this had to be a complete secret between us forever. Finally I answered, "Well, I told you before it's a little late to turn back now." At least, I knew it was for me. I could only hope he felt the same. I turned my head to look him sincerely in the eye. "The hard part is over now anyway, right? We both know how we feel. Everything else is just details, right?"

His eyes shuttered a bit and a forlorn smile grew across his mouth. "I hope you're right," he said and ruffled my hair slightly. Yeah, I didn't really believe it either. There was something unspoken there, but decided not to push it. Not yet. For now I was content to lie there next to him and take one day, one minute, one breath at a time. I was not going to push this. It was just too good to screw up.

Tseng gave a lengthy stretch over his head and yawned, stopping when his hand made contact with the table at the end of my couch. He felt around momentarily, then came back with a ball-point pen in his hand. He blinked sleepily at it and clicked it on. "Gimmie," he commanded and motioned for me to give him my injured arm.

Slowly, he scrawled something over the plaster cast, deliberately going over the letters several times so the words showed up clear and bold. Funny how I'd never noticed until now that he was left-handed, which only confirms my previous theory. When he was satisfied, he quirked a little smile and then reached over his head to replace the pen while admiring his handiwork.

After a moment, he finally gave me my arm back so I could look at the little note he'd so carefully doodled there. When I read it, I couldn't help but groan.

XOXOXO Roxanne.

To anyone else, it would've looked like a note from an affectionate woman named Roxanne. To me, it was a whole 'nother meaning. It wasn't by any means the most meaningful thing in the world, but for me, right now, it was good enough.

And when I looked into his smoky eyes and felt his breath on my face when he pulled me close for another kiss, I realized that 'good enough' was just exactly what I needed.